The Serpent's Bite
by Sabari
Summary: There is saying that evil never dies, it merely finds a new name and face, its strength is in the half-truths and twisted honesty of its lies. The Viper might be dead by Bumblebee's hand, but somehow The Serpent always returns to finish its song. Probably AU. Non-slash/non-pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_**Set in season 1. Stand-alone sequel to**_ **Serpent's Song** **.** _ **  
Fun fact:**_ **The Serpent's Song** _ **was written before**_ **Robots in Disguise** _ **started airing, and was published not long after the show started.**_

 _ **As always, this story is completely written. As per usual, I will upload one chapter per day (Barring anything out of the ordinary. I will attempt to give readers a head's up via A/N).**_

 _ **This was written for my entertainment, and is being published for yours. If you find yourself not enjoying it, then you should feel perfectly free to stop reading.**_

 _ **Heap praise or criticism upon it, whichever may suit you best. Or say nothing about it at all, if you would prefer.**_

 _ **Do feel free to point out typos, I check my stories before publishing, but I admit my imperfection and would welcome the opportunity to correct any mistakes I may have made.**_

* * *

 **Part 1 – Devil's Tongue**

" _The success of any trap lies in its fundamental simplicity." –_ _ **The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)**_

* * *

The world was not as it had been before. For just a moment, a breath in time as he stood gazing at the wilderness on the other side of the space bridge, Bumblebee had felt as if nothing had changed; it was as if time had stood still in this one spot, this place called Earth. Then Strongarm and Sideswipe had stumbled through after him, and reality had set in.

Bumblebee had only faint, vague memories of Cybertron before it was ripped apart by war. He had been so young, so very young, when all of it had happened. But still he knew the Cybertron that was lost was not the one that had been found. It would never be the same again.

And neither would Earth.

He didn't know how much time had passed here on Earth, but when he was given a moment's respite from the challenges of leadership in this newly birthed war, he went in search of the familiar names, faces and places. But he had so far found no sign of the old friends of this world, nor even of the places he once new. The locations were there, but the land had been reshaped, restructured and -in some areas- restrained. The empty desert he had known was part of a town now.

The hill with its tree near the road, where he had often driven with his human friend so they could just be, it was not gone; yet it was changed and unrecognizable. There was a swimming pool to one side of it, a through street with a gas station on the other and, at the top, a chain drive-in. The tree was gone, the hill smoothed, flattened and buried, the ferocity of the desert itself suppressed by progress.

The world spun on, oblivious to all that had gone before and which could never be again, the voices of the past ignored or silenced. Yet Bumblebee could not mourn the loss of those he had known without knowing if they had died, and that was perhaps the worst of all.

On Cybertron, the war had seemed so far away, so easy to forget, to simply not think about. But Earth... this was where so much had happened. The entire planet had been a battlefield, spilled energon had soaked into the ground here almost as much as Cybertron itself. And the darkness at its core... Bumblebee had grown accustomed to it long ago, he hadn't even felt it back then. But now it haunted his every waking moment, knowing what slept beneath his feet.

Bumblebee sat in the parking lot of the drive-in, not quite asleep and yet still dreaming. But not only of the good that had been. He saw the evil too, as if it still lived and breathed beside him.

An ancient enemy in the form of a bitingly bright green sports car with black trim. He could almost hear the sinister purr of the dark engine; the vile, almost seductive hiss of the voice that had spoken to him as a ghost might, speaking as though it were somehow part of him.

 _{Do you remember what it was like, Scout?}_

Bumblebee knew the voice was not real, merely an echo of a memory and he did not fear it, nor the horror it represented. He said nothing, for he knew already what his mind would make the phantom say.

 _{The others don't remember. They think they do, but they don't. Your life has been placed in a museum, Scout. The war you offered your life to end has become a subject of historical study and much debate and cheap theater productions. They barely remember the facts, and have no awareness of the spirit. They know nothing of the blood of war. But you and I... we remember.}_

"You," Bumblebee replied quietly, "are dead."

 _{So I am. But why call my likeness to mind if you do not wish to hear me speak? Am I the only ghost you know? Am I the only thing you have left of what once was?}_

Bumblebee didn't answer. It was himself asking the question and, in truth, he knew of no easy answer. This was the only memory that spoke to him now. The other memories were just that. Memories.

"You were only a monster that war created, Pit Viper. Nothing more."

 _{You too were forged in that flame. What does that make you?}_

Bumblebee didn't speak, but he forced his mind not to conjure up the hateful image of Pit Viper anymore. The bright sports car blurred, faded and vanished. Just like the past. This was not the first time that Bumblebee's wandering thoughts had returned life to the dead Viper, and he was sure it would not be the last. Pit Viper was one of those things the historic records had forgotten, those first documenters felt he was no more than a footnote, and then had erased him completely from Cybertron's collective memory. But Bumblebee couldn't forget, and he wasn't so sure the rest of the world should.

Many a writer and director felt that he had captured the horror of war with splashes of energon and dirt and screams and firing of guns, thunder of explosions and wide-staring eyes of those who snapped under the weight of it all. But even they had forgotten the monster of the story, the living presence of evil that lay heavy on the wasted landscape. They didn't know what the face of evil looked like, how could they possibly hope to reproduce it for an audience? And what audience would sit still for something like that anyway? No one. No one wanted to truly step into the heart of darkness, and those who had truly seen it knew that.

But in forgetting, in trading reality for a comfortable fantasy, had they also forgotten how the war had happened? Why it had come to pass? Had they forgotten how to recognize evil as it rose to claim power, dooming Cybertron and the rest of the universe to seeing it coming too late?

 _No soldier should live to see war come a second time,_ Bumblebee thought.

He was a lieutenant, a street cop. But those were just titles. At his spark, Bumblebee was a soldier, a Warrior. And, as such, he dreaded seeing the return of all he had fought to bring an end to, even if it also ended his time as an outsider in the world he had saved, yet was no longer a part of.

But he couldn't spend all his time brooding. Or even most of his time. The others would be wondering where he'd gone, they'd call if he didn't check in soon. And he didn't want to explain why he was here, here of all places. The place where his life had once almost come to a tragic end. It was not the only such place, even on Earth. A Warrior did not fade when his courage was tested, nor did he quit when things got dangerous. The old soldier would rise again to answer the call of battle.

That in mind, Bumblebee left the drive-in and turned onto the road, heading back to base.

To his surprise, he heard the Viper's insidious whisper. It was a warning, a flash of insight, or perhaps a brief moment of sheer paranoia. Whatever it was, it shook him.

 _{Be ready, Scout. The worst is yet to come.}_

* * *

"Where do you suppose he goes every day?" Russell wondered aloud.

Bumblebee drove in as slowly as a human driver might have. Somehow it annoyed Sideswipe that Bee was so cautious even in their safe haven. Of course, Sideswipe was all about speed, risks and fun. He also had never wondered what Russell just had, and so it took him a moment to reply.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Who cares? Bee does his own thing."

"I just..." Russell paused uncertainly, "He seems sad sometimes, that's all."

"You'd probably be sad too, if you were him," Strongarm interjected, "We Cybertronians live a lot longer than you humans, and he's been here before. Don't you think he probably had friends back then, like you and your dad now?"

Russell seemed thoughtful, "How long do you guys live anyway?"

But it was neither Strongarm nor Sideswipe who answered, because Bumblebee had just got within earshot (or perhaps he was feigning unawareness of the previous portions of the conversation).

"Sometimes longer than we'd like to. Other times... not nearly long enough."

He didn't stay around to hear Russell's remark of, "Well that was unnecessarily cryptic."

"He's... got a lot on his mind," Strongarm said, somewhat weakly.

In truth, even she was getting a little tired of trying to defend him. Bumblebee was everything she'd imagined when she found out she was to be partnered with a real live war hero... but he was also everything other -less respectful- cadets had theorized he probably was.

He was undeniably intelligent, very experienced, and often more patient with her than perhaps she deserved- but he could also turn moody at times, and seemed to see things that nobody else did; she was almost never certain if those things were real or imagined. Certainly he had seen Optimus Prime when there seemed no possible way for him to have. Maybe everything else was somehow connected to that. Perhaps it was just experience in seeing something other than the expected. Maybe.

Perhaps fortunately, there wasn't a great deal of time to ponder the mystery of Bumblebee.

"I hate to interrupt whatever you're doing," Fixit called out, "But I just picked up a strange energy bleeding – eating – _READING_. I think it may be Decepticon."

"May be?" Bumblebee inquired, "You're not sure?"

"No," Fixit admitted with a flush of embarrassment, "but I do know that it is of Cybertronian origin."

Bumblebee paused for the barest second; but in that beat, Strongarm could swear she saw a kind of knowing fear, a brief flash of dread, like he knew something the rest of them didn't. But it was gone in an instant and, when he spoke, Bumblebee's voice betrayed nothing.

"We better check it out; let's go, team."

"What?" Sideswipe demanded, "No fumbling attempt at a catch phrase?"

Bumblebee narrowed his eyes slightly and answered, "Not today."

Strongarm, Sideswipe and Grimlock all exchanged glances. Bumblebee's expression and tone were light, yet none of the team could think of a time when a mission had been so urgent, a situation so dire that Bumblebee hadn't tried his own take on an iconic catch phrase.

Uneasily, Sideswipe pressed their leader, "You sure? You don't want to try just one?"

Bumblebee declined to answer. In silence, he transformed, revved his engine noisily and then waited for the others. Hesitantly, they followed suit.

"Keep us updated on the location of that reading, Fixit," Bumblebee said, and then took off.

Startled, Grimlock hurriedly leaped onto the trailer on which he typically rode, while Strongarm connected herself to it. She was the only one equipped to pull a trailer, and the only one with enough strength to drag Grimlock behind her with relative ease.

By the time she was hooked up to the trailer, Sideswipe had already launched far ahead and caught up with Bumblebee, who for once did not appear to be waiting for anyone or anything.

"I don't like it, Grim," Strongarm remarked as she started forward, "Something's wrong."

"I could get out and walk..." Grimlock said.

"No. Not with you. With the Lieutenant. He's acting strange? Don't you think he's acting strange?"

"Only always. Why?"

"Ugh... never mind."

* * *

It was more instinct than insight, more experience than epiphany, but nobody would have believed it, especially as Bumblebee could see out of the corner of his eye the streamlined body of a bright green Urbana Viper with black trim, its scoop a ribcage or devilish grin, a phantom image racing alongside him so fast he couldn't even hope to outrun it, no matter how hard he tried.

It was a premonition from the least supernatural origin: Memory.

He had finished with the Viper long ago, but it was clear even then that the Viper was not finished with him.

Many years ago, on this self-same planet, the Pit Viper had tricked Bumblebee into believing he had committed murder, and succeeded in exiling the Scout from his team as a result. But, in the end, it was the Viper who had paid the ultimate price. His own scheming had led to his demise.

But that had not been the first time Bumblebee met with the Viper, and it had also not been the last. Even in death, the Viper still stalked his nightmares and haunted his waking moments. No matter how strong he became, how smart he was, how deep his understanding of the universe and its ways, Bumblebee could never entirely shake off what the Viper had done.

There was an Earth saying that evil never dies, it merely finds a new name and face, its strength is in the half-truths and twisted honesty of its lies. And there was no stronger lie than the one the Viper had told. He was dead, but Bumblebee sensed that the evil had begun anew.

 _{Be ready, Scout. The worst is yet to come.}_

Lie? Half truth? Twisted? Perhaps all. Perhaps none.

But Bumblebee knew one thing beyond any doubt: the Viper, even in death, had somehow returned.

The Serpent had returned to finish the song.

* * *

 _A note to readers: Since August of 2013, I have faithfully written an amount every single day (barring two-to-five day breaks between the end of one story and beginning of the next). Usually a full chapter of something, but sometimes only a paragraph. Until December of 2015, when I discovered my dog was suffering from a luxating patella and required surgery. In January of this year (2016), he had the surgery to correct the problem (if you have questions about that -the surgery, rehab, how it affected my writing, what the heck a patella is... whatever-, feel free to drop me a message rather than putting that in a review). From the beginning of January to the end of March, I was unable to write so much as a sentence creatively. This has, I believe, greatly harmed my writing ability._

 _As this is the first story I've worked on since, it suffers from my lack of practice, and I want to apologize to any existing readers who were hoping for better (I certainly did when I started writing it, but this is my best at present), and I'd like to suggest new readers read_ The Serpent's Song _if they want a better idea of my normal skill level. This story also contains an amount of spoilers for_ Prime _, so if you haven't seen it, I suggest you shuffle off and watch that (it's better than this story, trust me)._


	2. Chapter 2

The blip Fixit had picked up was traveling fast along the interstate, much faster than Strongarm could manage- especially with her heavy load of dinobot trailer. Bumblebee made a decision to split up the team; he and Sideswipe would go on ahead to try and overtake the target, Strongarm would catch up.

It was a decision Bumblebee would later regret having made.

Sideswipe was faster, but Bumblebee was wiser. He knew well that the signal they were pursuing might turn out to be something harmless. Or, more likely, something harm _ful_. They would be no good to anybody -especially themselves- if they burned out before they arrived.

Therefore, Bumblebee told Sideswipe to stay with him.

The younger Autobot resented being reined in, just as Bumblebee had when he was that age. Sideswipe thought he could handle anything. But he had a great disadvantage compared with Bumblebee at that age. Bumblebee had been a Scout, with the tools and training to get the job done; and the awareness to get out when things got too hot... most of the time.

Sideswipe had only what training he would accept from Strongarm, and whatever he'd picked up on the streets before coming to Earth. And even Strongarm was no soldier. Intensive as training to become a cop was, it was nothing compared to what Bumblebee and those like him had gone through before joining the war for Cybertron (and, later Earth).

It was fortunate that -though it was maximum security- the _Alchemor_ had not been carrying many of the truly heavy hitters of the Great War. Most of those had been impossible to catch, and too dangerous to leave alive. Bumblebee had many regrets, but the Decepticons he had been forced to kill didn't make the cut. He hadn't wanted to kill, and felt sorrow at having been forced to make that call more than once, but it had been necessary, and one did themselves no favors in regretting what had to be.

In addition, the weaponry of that war had not only been rendered obsolete, but was beyond the firepower cops and criminals could get their hands on. Bumblebee had once had blasters actually built into his forearms. It was sometimes hard to remember that he had once truly been a living weapon, his blasters powered by the very spark that kept him alive. His armor had been heavier, thicker as well; but overall sleeker then than now. Even his optics had been equipped with military hardware.

Bumblebee himself had lost little of his skill, but some loss was inevitable. No matter how hard he practiced, no simulation could be a fraction of the real thing. Besides, everyone was encouraged to rely more on minicons than their own two hands. If minicons had existed in the war, Bumblebee didn't remember them. But he sure could have used one back then. On the other hand, so could Megatron. Maybe it was for the best that some things had not existed at the time.

Some things were best left in the past. But others should not have been forgotten.

None of the historical records seemed to realize that the last of the Autobots in that war had been more than mere brothers in arms. They had been a family, so wrapped up in each other's successes and failures both on and off the battlefield that sometimes they forgot all about themselves and functioned as a single unit, with one spark and one goal. That was not training or experience, that came from inside. Bumblebee saw a ghost of it in the police force of Cybertron. But only a pale reflection of what had been during that war. And with each new batch of recruits, the memory faded from the collective mind and soul of Cybertron.

"Hey, Bee, you in still in there?" Sideswipe asked, jerking Bumblebee from his thoughts.

"Yes," he replied, "I was just thinking."

"Well the time for thinking is over. We're almost on top of them now."

A glance at his GPS system told Bumblebee that Sideswipe was right. They were close enough that the single blip had split into three smaller ones. He thought about changing tactics, waiting for Strongarm and Grimlock to catch up. But he shook it off, maybe because of what he'd been thinking about.

Tough as a lot of the bots they fought were to crack, they were pushovers in comparison to what Bumblebee had known. You could slip up, make a mistake, miss your timing and still come out alive. During the war, one miscalculated action was enough to end your life.

It was a warm day, sunny and clear; but, in his mind's eye, Bumblebee saw the sky turn black, lightning flash and felt the chill of winter wind whip against his armor. Even as he accelerated, he heard a voice in his mind, the voice of a dead comrade; one who had made exactly this mistake... and paid for it with his life, ending up torn in half and bleeding dark energon before falling into a pit from which he would never rise. It had been just one moment of overconfidence.

But if Bumblebee listened to all the voices of the dead, he would never be able to move again.

Still, this was not the first time he had seen darkness where there was none, felt cold when it was warm. It was the instinct of a survivor, rendered razor sharp by bitter experience.

Something bad lay on the road ahead.

The road was mercifully deserted when Fixit abruptly started yelling into the radio. In a panic, repeating words, he was impossible to understand, but Bumblebee didn't have to in order to see what he was saying, because it was just coming over a hill towards them.

The targets had turned and were coming right for them.

Bumblebee and Sideswipe both stopped dead, but for different reasons.

Sideswipe looked for, but did not see, any Autobot or Decepticon insignia. He would even have settled for a Predacon symbol, though he was less certain of what that looked like. But he saw no such emblems. Yet he knew they must be of Cybertron, for they were three vehicles, none with a driver.

They were all the same make, similar in shape to Bumblebee, but heavier and more rounded. They were black with red trim, and each had emblazoned on their hood the red-outlined image of a black and silver cobra coiled, raised and prepared to strike.

Bumblebee stopped and waited for the enemy to come to him, his eyes on the bot driving down the center line slightly ahead of the others. Among the warriors of Cybertron, the spearhead in such a formation was almost invariably the leader and/or best fighter.

As they crested the hill, the three oncoming vehicles acted as one and transformed in sync without stopping or adjusting their position in relation to one another. That was military precision. Bumblebee knew it wasn't easy to do a controlled transformation while moving at high speeds, much less do so while hemmed in by other bots doing the same thing. Sideswipe looked stunned.

Their wheels seemed to slide back on their bodies, which became elongated, with flat, arrowhead shaped heads backed by a hood constructed from their door panels. They had no limbs, yet lifted the first third of their bodies off the ground and propelled themselves with the wheels that served them in vehicle mode. Before, they had reminded Bumblebee of Vehicons, only instead of purple their trim was crimson. Now it was easy to see that they resembled the very cobra painted onto their armor.

Their change of shape reduced their speed by half, which slowed still further once the transformation was complete. But they were coming with the light of battle in their coal-black, red-rimmed eyes.

Bumblebee and Sideswipe both transformed, but the latter was caught by surprise when the serpent on the left shuddered and launched itself from the ground. Airborne, it opened wide its black mouth, extending great silver fangs which were long enough to go right through Sideswipe's hand.

With a yelp, Sideswipe drew back and the bite missed, but the serpent twisted in the air and brought its tail section close enough to him to wrap itself around his waist.

"Ugh! Get it off!" Sideswipe cried, stumbling back with the weight, employing both hands to hold the giant snake's head and keep the fangs from hitting him.

The snake writhed, hissed and attempted to plunge free of Sideswipe.

Bumblebee had no time to help Sideswipe, for the center serpent was upon him the instant he began to turn. That turn probably saved his life. The snake missed his body, the fangs dug only into the glass of one of the door panels behind Bee's shoulder. The glass shattered as Bumblebee whirled back to face the snake. It squealed and flipped in the air, coming to land several feet away.

It coiled itself, raised nearly two-thirds of its long body off the ground and opened its mouth. Just above where the two sections of its jaws hinged, there was a small hole. It was through this that the snake fired. A blaster built into its body!

Bumblebee tucked and rolled, the snake rotated its head and fired continuously, following him across the asphalt as far as it could without moving. Bumblebee intended to get around behind it, but was caught by the third snake, which wrapped itself around his legs and tripped him.

The spitting serpent finally hit its mark, striking Bee full in the face.

An overwhelming sense of powerlessness washed through Bumblebee. Numbness spread almost instantly, and he realized that he had just been paralyzed by the blast and was now helpless.

Instead of going after him, both serpents turned on Sideswipe, who was still grappling with the one that had jumped him at the start. He didn't see the others coming, and Bumblebee could not shout a warning. Sideswipe noticed them too late to escape.

The serpent Bee had pegged for the leader paused and turned suddenly. It was slightly longer than the other two, and lifted its head higher. A silver forked tongue, its tips like hypodermic needles, flashed out, and then back, and the black eyes seemed to blaze, their centers glowing faintly crimson.

For the first time, the serpent spoke, in a basic speech punctuated by hissing and buzzing.

 _{Fallen is the Great, spilled the energon of he who was ours. Your suffering is nothing to his own.}_

The voice, distorted but powerful, conveyed only the information that this serpent was a female, the words themselves meant nothing to Bumblebee, but they sent a chill through him nonetheless. He could not answer her, nor ask her what she was talking about. In her furious gaze, he saw that speaking would have been futile anyhow. She had said exactly what she meant, and would say no more.

The rumbling of an oncoming vehicle caused her upward held body to sway and her head to turn. Her tongue flicked again, and her eyes narrowed. As she drew her head back towards her torso, sunlight caught and made flash a shallow, silver groove extending from the front corner of her eye diagonally down the length of her face. Its shine reminded Bee of a human tear.

With a high shriek, she flared out the hood at the back of her neck, causing a shudder to ripple through her frame. She opened her mouth and brought forth savage fangs which had been folded back out of sight when she had spoken. As she closed her mouth, the fangs withdrew and her hood seemed to collapse around her.

So taken by her strangeness was Bumblebee that he momentarily forgot what was happening to Sideswipe. Until Sideswipe screamed in pain. Bumblebee couldn't move his head, but manged to strain his optics until he could see Sideswipe at the edge of his field of vision.

Sideswipe was on the ground, one serpent twisted around his legs, the other around his torso and arms. This second serpent had doubled back on its own length and bitten Sideswipe just below the thick, protective plating about his chest. The slender fangs had slipped between two plates to the vulnerable body beneath the armor.

Like a true snake, the serpent injected venom through its hollow fangs, and it was this that was causing Sideswipe so much pain. The snake held for no more than a second, before withdrawing as suddenly as it had struck. The two snakes undid their powerful, vise-like coils from the Autobot, who did not scream again, but now writhed on the ground and moaned, unable to rise or defend himself.

* * *

Strongarm cursed her unavoidable slowness. Even had she not been towing Grimlock behind her, her top speed would not have brought her to the scene in time. Such was the price of her strength.

When they were still some distance away, she saw Sideswipe go down under strange, twisting creatures. She was still too far to make them out clearly when the sound of her comrade's scream came to her on the wind, spurring her to her greatest possible speed.

She abandoned the trailer. There was no one to see Grimlock bolt from under the tarp and follow her, his foot falls deafening thunder, drowning out the pounding of her spark.

But it wasn't enough.

As they closed the gap, Strongarm was astonished and disbelieving of what she saw. Not only had both Bumblebee and Sideswipe been taken out in a matter of seconds, the three culprits did not resemble any of the Decepticons in the database of the _Alchemor_. At least, none she had seen.

Bodies entwined, heads raised to observe dispassionately the frenzied charge of the remaining two Autobots, the three serpents looked more like one with three heads than anything.

In what appeared to be a chaotic flurry of movement, the three separated and transformed. With a roar of engines, they fled down the road. All but one. She hung back a moment.

She made as if to speak, but all Strongarm heard was a sort of buzzing squeal that she recognized as basic speech. She had not been trained to understand it, but she knew a threat when she heard it, and attempted to double her efforts, but she had already gone to her most extreme speed.

The remaining serpent, now a vehicle, turned and sped away.

Grimlock pursued, but Strongarm knew that neither she nor he was fast enough to overtake the vehicles, and so she didn't try. Instead, she skidded to a halt near Sideswipe, who was issuing soft, slightly strangled cries of agony.

"Sideswipe, can you hear me? Listen, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine, alright?"

But inside she wasn't so sure, and it didn't seem as though Sideswipe heard her anyway.

* * *

Momentary panic had set in when Strongarm realized that she was in charge. With Bumblebee out of commission, it fell to Strongarm to make a decision. Grimlock certainly wasn't about to, even after he returned from the futile pursuit of the fleeing assailants.

He just stood their dumbly, a giant robotic dinosaur on the highway, as obvious and out of place as a spider on a birthday cake, and looking just as baffled. He didn't know what to do, and looked to Strongarm to make the right call.

She had gone back for the trailer, and had Grimlock help her load Sideswipe onto it.

"You stay here with the Lieutenant," she had said, "I can't carry both of them, and you'd be too conspicuous. I'll have to come back for you two. Sideswipe needs help now."

"I dunno what conspicuous means, but I'm guessing it's a bad thing."

"Yes, a very bad thing," Strongarm scanned the horizon, looking for a place Grimlock could conceal himself until she got back; but the land was flat, dusty and dry as far as she could see.

Even if Grimlock set foot off the pavement, the tracks he would leave were bound to attract attention, even if his hulking shape didn't. For what seemed an infinite number of seconds, Strongarm didn't know what to do. Each pulse of her spark seemed to signal that Sideswipe was just that much closer to death. She couldn't think, not now when it really counted.


	3. Chapter 3

Strongarm hit on what seemed like a brilliant idea.

She and Grimlock dragged Bumblebee to the side of the road, and then she had Grim position himself to stand over Bee and told him to look ferocious, then freeze whenever a vehicle came by. She hoped that would make him look like a model dinosaur attacking a model robot, making people think it was some sort of advertising campaign for a movie or something.

Strongarm had been surprised and confused the first time she'd seen a gaudy display like the one she was now trying to replicate, but Bumblebee had taken it calmly and tried to explain it to her. She now hoped she'd understood better than she'd felt like she had that day.

"I don't understand how this is hiding," Grimlock had confessed.

"Fortunately, you don't have to. Just do it."

It was with tremendous reluctance that Strongarm left Grim and Bee. Her limited first aid training left her woefully unprepared for this, but she was fairly certain that Sideswipe was in worse shape than Bee. But what if she was wrong? What if she shouldn't move either of them, instead bringing Fixit to the scene? What if Bumblebee and Sideswipe died?

The road had seemed smooth driving out, but now she felt every little bump and jolt through her tires. Each one made her cringe as it wrung a quiet whimper from Sideswipe. It seemed that he had heard her when she explained her plan, or at least understood the need to be as still and quiet as possible. Even so, his body was wracked by spasms, each one shook the trailer and Strongarm felt them all through the hitch; they all felt like the end of the world and she feared each might be the last.

She drove as fast as she could while remaining as inconspicuous as possible and being mindful of the roughness of the road. She passed only a few cars, but she could feel the suspicious eyes of the drivers on her, questioning, wondering; and she was terrified they might somehow guess what they were looking at. She knew the need for those from Cybertron to remain undiscovered, though there were aspects to it that she suspected she didn't understand.

Bumblebee had spoken once, and then only briefly, of an organization known as MECH. The organization was a human-based one. Since it had been disbanded and never been intentionally or directly a part of the war, historical records made no mention of it.

Strongarm wondered what could be so terrible about humans that Bumblebee should feel the need to tell her how to identify them or those like them, but distressed enough not to elaborate. Could humans really be so dangerous? She'd never really thought so, but now every car she passed seemed to have a human occupant that could be made of pure evil. She was panicking, and knew it, but couldn't stop.

Some back corner of her mind was working though, telling her where to turn and when to stop.

She'd radioed ahead to Fixit and Denny were there waiting when she arrived.

Fixit pulled himself up onto the trailer and gave Sideswipe a quick once over before nodding to Strongarm to carry the now unconscious Autobot from the trailer to an out-of-the-way corner of the scrapyard which would now serve as the infirmary.

Without Grimlock's help, it was difficult for Strongarm to be gentle in moving Sideswipe, but he didn't seem to feel it. Maybe he couldn't feel anything. He was dead weight in her arms, utterly limp and almost unmanageably unbalanced and heavy as a result.

But somehow Strongarm got him across the yard and set him down. She knelt to put him down, and stayed there for a brief moment, suddenly indecisive and unwilling to leave him. She steeled herself, told herself that Sideswipe was in good hands, and there was nothing she could do for him now.

"I'll be back soon," she whispered, though she felt certain he could not hear her.

With a curt nod to Fixit, she returned to the trailer, transformed and headed out to retrieve Bumblebee. She would then have to make a third trip to get Grimlock, who couldn't get back unnoticed on his own.

As she was leaving, her radio crackled to life with a message of doom that seemed to freeze time.

" _They're back! They've come back!"_ it was Grim's voice, but there was an unnatural fear in it.

Maybe Grim didn't understand much, but he knew when he was in mortal danger. Strongarm abandoned caution and launched herself out into the road, swinging the trailer behind her.

Now it was really a race against time.

How long could Grimlock hold out against three Decepticons, the same three that had taken down Sideswipe and Bumblebee in a matter of seconds?

 _If they are Decepticons,_ she thought, because she really wasn't sure.

* * *

Grimlock didn't understand why the passing cars didn't seem to see him when he stood very still over Bumblebee, but he held onto blind faith in the intelligence of Strongarm. She was smart, certainly smarter than he was. She seemed to think this would work and, so far, it had.

Even when cars weren't passing, Grimlock continued to stand over his fallen leader, guarding against he really knew not what. He didn't actually expect the snakes to come back, nor did he think any Decepticons knew where they were. Still, he didn't relax for an instant, instead standing tense, his head turning sharply this way and that, his optics searching for any movement, any foreign object, anything even slightly suspicious.

He was fairly accustomed to being alone. Before joining up with the Autobots, Grim had spent a great deal of time on his own in a world he didn't fully understand. Even though he'd been on Cybertron, that world had not been made for him. It was too complicated, and even on Cybertron he had felt too big, awkward and clumsy. All he really knew was fighting. He was good at that.

But that had been his undoing. That was why he'd been locked away. He'd been labeled a 'bad guy', though he didn't really understand why. His affinity for destruction had betrayed him, and it was the only skill he had. That one talent was not understood or appreciated by most, some even mocked him for it. Absolutely no one had ever given him a chance to try and do better.

Until Bumblebee.

It was Bumblebee who had given him probation. He didn't really know what that was, but he did know it meant a second chance, and not being locked back into a stasis pod.

Whatever he did or did not comprehend, Grimlock knew kindness when it happened to him, and the concept of loyalty was very much in his grasp. He had no intention of letting any further harm come to the only bot to ever believe in him, to ever place any sort of faith in him, to ever trust him and value him just for being what he was, instead of being angry about what he wasn't and could not be.

The rest of the Autobots had accepted him, but only because Bumblebee gave them no other choice.

When he needed to be, Bumblebee could be every bit as ferocious and aggressive as Grimlock. More so, even. But, just because he was a fighter, it didn't mean that was all Bumblebee was. That Bumblebee could be a warrior and a tactician gave Grimlock hope that he could learn to be more than he was, to be... better than he was. He was scared to death that he was about to lose all that.

If Bumblebee died, would Grimlock have to go back into stasis? Was probation tied directly to Bumblebee? Would that chance disappear if the one who had given it was gone?

Perhaps that was a selfish way to think, but it was the only logical process Grim could manage right now, out here by himself with the smartest, most compassionate Autobot he knew depending on him for survival. He couldn't afford to screw this up.

And then he saw them. Just one at first, then the other two. The hateful black, silver and red snake cars were back. He growled and shifted his weight, but didn't move.

Should he go and fight them? Or should he stay where he was?

He decided to radio Strongarm. Maybe she could tell him.

"They're back! They've come back!"

She understood, _"I'm on my way; just hang on!"_

Sure, but hang on to what?

He decided that he had to charge. They were coming right for Bumblebee, and Grimlock could not permit that. He had to stop them. And so, he did what he knew how to do.

With a mighty roar, he dug into the dirt at the side of the road with his claws, then sprang, his weight shifted to the front, legs powerfully propelling him forward, mouth agape. He did not need to transform in order to fight. Here and now, he would use his teeth to end this.

The enemy in the lead increased speed and leaped, all four tires left the ground as the unmistakable sound of gears turning, pistons working, metal plates shifting and snapping into a new position heralded the transformation to follow. The vehicle was once again a serpent.

Grimlock got a sense that the snake was speaking. It buzzed and hissed, but nothing intelligible came forth from its gaping maw. As it reached the point at which the snake and dinobot must inevitably collide, it twisted sideways in the air, dodging Grimlock's open jaws and then snapping its head around with the intent of biting him with its slender fangs.

But Grim leaned to the side just in time to prevent the fangs from finding their mark between armor plates. The tips of the fangs grazed his armor plating, but the only result was a hideous shriek of metal against metal. A colorless liquid dripped down between them and splashed onto the asphalt.

Grim roared again, attempting to turn and face the serpent. His own momentum worked against him, and only by lowering himself almost to the ground did he manage to halt his forward movement and redirect it towards where the serpent was now coiled and waiting. Half its length was raised above the ground, and the wicked head was drawn back to strike.

Grim realized his mistake at the last second and veered sharply left, narrowly avoiding the venomous fangs that suddenly flashed out as the snake threw its head out with a muscular thrust of its body. The tongue licked out, and the sharp tips touched against armor.

Grimlock barreled on past the snake, then stopped and glanced at his haunch, checking for damage.

He seemed to be unhurt, though the forked tongue had scraped two thin lines of paint off, as the fangs had removed some from the shoulder earlier. But he was still up and ready to fight.

Grimlock shook himself and roared as loudly as he could.

By this time, the other two snakes had shed their vehicular skins and were twining their upper bodies about each other, hissing and burring to themselves. The snake which had actually attacked seemed to have made this fight her own, and the others would not interfere.

Grimlock preferred a fair fight. He shook himself again and growled.

He was actually starting to have fun, but was determined not to lose sight of what was at stake here.

He glanced briefly at Bumblebee, who lay silent and unmoving. The serpents followed his gaze.

Looking straight at him, the largest of them hissed something, but he didn't know what.

He could guess though. This was a fight to the death, and Bumblebee's life hung in the balance.

Grim tensed, then sprang, once more charging his adversary.

The serpent watched, waited, biding her time, letting Grimlock come to her.

Let the dinobot do all the work, it was she who would strike the final blow. She was in no rush, she had waited this long, a few more minutes made no difference.

Let the fool exhaust himself. She could wait.

* * *

Bumblebee could see the world unraveling before his eyes, but he couldn't do anything. He couldn't move when Sideswipe went down, couldn't speak when the serpent told Strongarm to run while she had the chance, couldn't warn Grimlock that the snakes had come back, couldn't tell him to get out before it was too late, he couldn't tell Grimlock that one spit from that snake would leave him paralyzed and unable to fight, that it was just playing with him before moving in for the kill.

 _{Come, lumbering one. Come... and meet your end,}_ she taunted, her silver tongue flashing in and out of her mouth, _{Lachesis is here for you. Come.}_

Bumblebee had never heard the name 'Lachesis' but, based on the serpent's speech pattern, it was reasonable to suppose that she was referring to herself in the third person. _She_ was Lachesis.

Grimlock showed absolutely no comprehension, she spoke in a tongue that was foreign to him.

Basic speech had been the first language of Cybertron, if historical records were to be believed. But then Cybertronians developed more sophisticated methods of communication and largely abandoned this base language. It had fallen into disuse, then faded from memory. During the war, it had been standard for every soldier to learn basic speech. At one time, it had been used as code, until both sides had learned it. But now it seemed as though it had once again disappeared.

It came as a shock to Bumblebee to realize that neither Strongarm nor Grimlock spoke that tongue. Chances were, Sideswipe didn't either. When Bumblebee was their age, everyone was fluent in the language. Heck, when Bumblebee was their age, he spoke _only_ that language.

Thinking about that gave him an idea. If he could force out basic speech through a mangled voice box, maybe he could manage to speak now even through the paralytic which had frozen his systems. He knew what a Cybertronian medical professional would probably have to say about that, but mercifully there wasn't one here to impose scientific fact upon a situation calling for sheer force of will.

He felt a profound hesitation, as a victim of a plane crash might be reluctant to fly again. Irrationally, he felt terror at the thought of returning to that hated speech for fear of never being able to speak normally again. He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to do this again.

Carefully, he laid aside the feelings, gathered himself, and managed a blast of incoherent noise before settling into the uneven buzzing of that ancient speech that had lain half-forgotten in the back of his mind for so very long.

Grimlock jerked as though he were the recipient of an electric shock and turned towards Bumblebee. Grim couldn't understand, so Bee directed his remarks to Lachesis.

 _{Leave him alone! If you have a problem with us, bring it to me. I'm the leader of this team. So take it out on me, whatever it is. Just leave Grimlock alone!}_

Lachesis lowered her head without lowering her body, pointing her muzzle sharply at Bumblebee. Bee stared up the tear-stain silver grooves and into the fiery coals of the serpent's eyes.

 _{Come and stop me then,}_ she waited, but of course Bumblebee didn't move; he couldn't, _{You have no power here, Scout.}_

Bumblebee wanted to scream 'Now, Grim! While she's distracted!' but he knew it would be a futile effort, because Grimlock didn't understand. Even if he could have, Grim simply didn't have the reaction time of Lachesis; surely she would respond before he did.

Grim stood there dumbly, looking from Lachesis to Bumblebee and back again. He had no idea what they were doing, or how Bumblebee had made that sound. He did nothing until Lachesis returned her attention to him. She hissed and flicked her tongue, Grim roared in response and ran towards her.

 _{Grimlock, no!}_

Too late this time, Grimlock realized his mistake. As he swept past her, Lachesis leaned to her left, then whipped her head around. The long fangs slipped between the plates of armor at his right knee.

The fangs wedged in the joint prevented it from extending as Grim had intended. His weight came down, but his leg wasn't there to support it. With a roar of astonishment, Grimlock tumbled sideways, dragging the serpent with him as he staggered, fighting to keep his balance.

Doubling back along his own body length, Grim threw his weight to the left to stay upright, at the same time closing his jaws around the back of the serpent. There was an audible crack, and it seemed for a moment as though he had broken her back. But what he had actually broken was one of her venom fangs, which remained lodged in the knee joint of his armor.

Lachesis reacted instantly. Her head flew like an arrow towards Grim's face, the remaining fang clanged harshly against his muzzle. The attack failed, but startled Grim into releasing the serpent. She fell to the ground on her back, deftly twisted her form right side up and slithered away from the raging dinobot, who stumbled backward, shaking his head miserably.

Weapon's fire suddenly cut across the tarmac. Strongarm had arrived to help. She missed Lachesis entirely, and the giant snake hissed, then spat at her. Strongarm tucked and rolled, and the snake's paralyzing toxin missed.

Grimlock was flexing his leg, trying to free the metal tooth that prevented him from standing properly. He hopped backward in the direction of Strongarm, snarling and keeping a wary eye on the other snakes.

All three were moving now, their movements perfectly synced, their strategy as obvious as it was deadly. Swiftly, they separated, turning back to come at Strongarm from three different directions.

She couldn't hit all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Much to her dismay, Strongarm soon found she couldn't actually hit any of them. Their ground speed wasn't great, but their bodies were sinuous, and they had no trouble twisting their way clear of her shots. They bobbed their heads, hissed, and flicked their tongues as they advanced.

But their focus on Strongarm left them vulnerable. Hopping on one leg, Grimlock nevertheless managed to catch one of the lesser serpents by the tail. He ripped it off the ground, shook it hard and threw it away. He roared and limped towards the next snake even as the first squealed through the air and hit the ground with an unpleasant thump.

Bumblebee had been struggling to restore the use of some part of his body this whole time. He'd managed to move one of his arms. It was painfully slow to grip the blaster at his back and then bring it to bear, using his chest to stabilize his hand. He managed to fire, but only once.

Lachesis screamed as the shot caught her across the head.

Her eyes blazed as she whipped around to see who dared. Seeing Bumblebee somehow holding a blaster, and realizing that Grimlock was unbelievably still standing, she decided she didn't care for these kinds of odds. With a sharp command, she drew her two followers to her side and the three of them transformed, then fled as Strongarm shot after them.

Only when they were gone did Bumblebee dare relax. His weapon clattered to the ground. He couldn't have fired a second time, but Lachesis didn't know that. Even that effort had almost been more than he could manage. He could feel intense heat inside, feeling like it was going to burn him alive. It was the sensation of his body resisting the paralytic... but not very successfully.

"Lieutenant!" Strongarm put away her weapon and ran to him, dropping down to examine him.

"I'm... okay... I'll be... fine..." he managed to force the words out, and looked meaningfully at Grimlock, "Grim?"

The dinobot shook his leg, tried to extend it, but wasn't able to. With a soft yelp, he pulled his leg up and held it off the ground, wobbling uncertainly on his one good one. He twisted around, trying to reach his knee with his teeth or arms, but he was not very flexible at the best of times, and couldn't reach that far.

"He's fine," Strongarm said, though not very convincingly, "We need to get you out of here. Can you stand?"

"I-... no."

"Well that's okay," Strongarm said hurriedly, obviously trying to pretend she hadn't heard the pain admission of weakness had caused Bumblebee, "We'll get you home. Right, Grim?" silence. Strongarm turned to look at Grimlock, "Grim?"

Grim stood with his head low, weight shifted entirely onto his left leg and made a low whimpering sound. He tried taking a step forward with his right leg, but the knee joint couldn't straighten and he almost fell. He yelped, but managed to hop forward a few times and regain balance.

"Okay... well, I'll get you both home. It's going to be fine," Strongarm exhaled sharply, looking uneasy.

Grim lowered his head still further. As slowly as he could manage, he shifted his weight forward and folded his left leg under him gingerly. Gradually, he sank to the ground, his weight rolled onto his left hip, his right leg -unable to fold properly- stuck out at an odd angle. He sighed heavily.

"I'll... recover," Bumblebee said slowly, struggling with each word as though every one of them was the serpent that had done this to him, "Grim... won't. Take... take Grimlock... home."

"I can't just leave you here!" Strongarm objected.

"Grim... home... that's... an order. Go. Now," Bumblebee narrowed his eyes, straining to show that he really meant it.

Strongarm, with obvious reluctance, obeyed.

But even as she walked away, she kept looking over her shoulder, seeking a sign that Bumblebee would relent and let her take him home first. But he gave no such indication. He could already tell feeling and movement was returning to his limbs. But Grim, though slower to be affected than Sideswipe had been, was going downhill fast. He needed help, and badly.

Realizing she couldn't possibly carry Grimlock, nor could he walk far, Strongarm went to where she had left the trailer and brought it around to where Grim was lying.

It seemed an unbearably long process, going to the trailer, transforming, driving back with it, transforming again, blocking the trailer to make sure it wouldn't move... all of it took time.

By the time she had everything lined up, Grimlock had closed his eyes, and a faint shivering had taken hold of him. The sound of Strongarm's voice roused him, but he didn't move.

"Come on, Grim, I can't pick you up. You've got to get in the trailer. Come on, I'll help you, just get up," she kept talking to him, barely pausing for breath, but forcing every sentence to come out slowly and calmly, letting the cadence of her voice be the line Grim held to and with which he pulled himself up.

She slipped her shoulder under his chest, letting him lean forward on her. He placed so much weight on her that Strongarm felt herself shaking, but even then he barely had the strength to rise. He didn't climb into the trailer so much as collapse onto it, then push himself the rest of the way in with his good leg, guiding himself with his arms. He stopped with his tail still hanging out, but that was clearly the best they could do. Strongarm threw the tarp over him, tied it down and made ready to leave.

She glanced at Bumblebee only one more time before they left.

Within a moment, she was gone with Grimlock, and Bumblebee was alone.

It was then that the memories began to creep in again. This was not the first time he had been left alone and helpless. This was not the first time he had lain immobile, with danger possibly lurking in every shadow, behind every rock, the haze on the horizon or over a hill. Though inside he felt like he was burning up, Bumblebee shivered from the sudden chill of painful recollection.

 _Stop it, Bee. You can't do this. You have to focus,_ he told himself sternly.

He shifted his focus inward, trying to sense each extremity, to feel every joint, and to somehow force mobility and sensation back into them one at a time, to flush the paralytic from his system. He knew he couldn't stay here until Strongarm got back, it wasn't safe.

The serpents could return at any time, and humans could drive by and see him. He had to move. At the very least, he had to transform. But transformation required flexibility, feeling and control of absolutely every moving part. All Cybertronians did it, but it wasn't as easy as it looked.

Perhaps that was why Grimlock so often remained in his dinobot form when the others had to shift to robot in order to fight effectively. Or maybe it was because Grimlock had rows of sharp teeth set in metal crushing jaws, meaning he didn't need to change form in order to fight.

Belatedly, Bee realized that he could transform in stages. Not only that, he had training that provided the understanding of the mechanics of such a transformation. He had learned partial transformation before blasters had been implanted in his arms. It seemed so long ago. Though that training had seemed unending, it had become a mere blip in distant memory. He had never used it for anything but accessing his weapons, it had been the foundation of his weapons training and his quick change from robot to vehicle and back again. Both abilities had been absolutely essential to survival during the war.

But it had been like learning the alphabet. Once you knew all the letters and how they made words, you seldom thought about how they were organized individually. Even if you needed to know if one letter came before or after another, you at most recited a section of the alphabet in your head. You didn't sing it out loud start to finish. But the song itself is never forgotten.

For Bumblebee, a piece by piece transformation was like singing the alphabet. Almost never done, seldom thought about, but surprisingly easy when he actually tried it.

Having acquired his vehicle form, Bumblebee felt exhausted. A muscle car sitting by the side of the road might be conspicuous, but nowhere near as much as a felled Autobot. He just had to hope nobody stopped to see what was going on with the abandoned car.

He also hoped that Lachesis and her kind had had enough in that last fight, and that they would not return. If they did, he had no way of defending himself against them.

* * *

Lachesis did return, but this time she was alone. Silently, she slithered in her serpentine form, sliding her body side to side, easing her way up beside Bumblebee as though she knew he could not run even as he saw her. Her forked tongue darted out, brushing at the dirt near the edge of the road.

She moved slowly, in an exploratory fashion, her head rotated just slightly so she could see Bumblebee out of her darkly gleaming right eye. Her head raised slightly, the silver tongue touched its tip to the base of Bumblebee's passenger side door panel.

At this distance, he could see her armor shell was composed of thousands or perhaps millions of tiny octagonal pieces that fit together in much the same way as a snake's scales. She extended the ones on her underbelly, dug them into the dirt and pushed herself forward by pulling the scales back toward her.

This allowed her to move as a snake never could: in a completely straight line.

Gradually, smoothly, she raised her body higher, until her head reached above Bumblebee's hood. Slowly, she settled herself back down, until her under-jaw rested lightly on Bee's front fender and her tongue could flick out and touch across his hood.

Through it all, Bumblebee dared not even flinch. He could not fight back, could not escape, and so knew he should not provoke Lachesis. Nor should he encourage her by speaking. So he sat still and completely silent, even as every inch of him was repulsed by the reptilian touch of the serpent.

When she finally spoke, he felt the dull vibration of her voice box against his fender.

 _{I can taste your revulsion, Scout. In the heat of your body, I feel your disgust. But where is your fear? Do you not value your life? Do you not fear me? I, who could take your life from you with just one bite?}_

She drew her head back and swayed there, peering at him curiously out of hooded eyes.

Then she ducked down and crawled underneath him, her extended scales brushing against his undercarriage. She stopped halfway through, raised herself once more and rested her head on the other side of his hood, her eyes glowing faintly even in full sunlight.

 _{Where is the fierce Scout who resisted to his death the power of Megatron?}_ without raising her head, she turned so her nose faced the windshield, _{Where is he who would pursue his enemies weaponless and without the ability to transform? Where is the Scout who lost only his voice when it should have been his life that was taken from him that day?}_

Bumblebee felt irritation well up in him and without thinking he spat, "I am not a Scout. I am a Warrior. Was... a Warrior. The war is over, Lachesis, or hadn't you noticed?"

 _{The war is never over!}_ she shrieked, her head lifting so she could open her mouth and snap out the venomous fangs, the bottom half of one now missing, _{Not for the likes of us, Scout! It never ends! Our war is forever, forever until one is fallen and dead!}_

"I don't even know you, and I don't recognize your insignia. Until today, I didn't even know you existed. How can we possibly be at war?"

Instead of answering, she twisted suddenly and slid herself higher until she was on his roof. Part of her was still beneath him, the tip of her tail curled up to hold onto the tiny gap between undercarriage and door panel. She leaned down, her head came to the center of his windshield.

 _{You murdered he who was ours.}_

"Who? Megatron? He was trying to kill Optimus and destroy Earth!"

 _{Not Megatron!}_ she spat the name like it was poison, _{Megatron was a fool! He abandoned us, ignored us, pretended we never were! Megatron deserved what he got.}_

"Somebody else then. Predaking? I never hurt him, much less killed him."

 _{Do I look like a predacon to you?!}_

"Well you sure don't look like any Decepticon or Autobot I've ever seen."

 _{You insult me, Scout! I belong to no one but myself, I care nothing for your Great War. He who was mine, he whom I once loved, you took him. Took him for the sake of your war, for your precious Earth, for your revolting human pet!}_

With a shock, he knew. Bumblebee knew exactly who she meant.

Before he could speak the hated name, he heard Strongarm return. Her tire treads bit into the asphalt and her engine roared as she pushed herself to her greatest speed. Lachesis raised her head to watch the oncoming Autobot. With a low hiss, she went into retreat. Even as Strongarm reached Bumblebee, the serpent was disappearing over the hill.

"Lieutenant!" Strongarm transformed and ran to him, "Lieutenant, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Strongarm."

She must have detected a tremor in his voice, because Strongarm looked dubious.

"I just want to go home," Bumblebee insisted, forestalling any questions.

Evidently coming to a decision, Strongarm leaned down and picked him up. Bumblebee's compact vehicle mode was much easier to lift and carry than Sideswipe's robot form had been. Even so, Bumblebee could tell Strongarm was feeling the strain, this being her third hurried trip to this location.

"Put me down for a minute," Bumblebee ordered.

"Sir, I need to take you home, so Fixit can... fix you..."

"Put me down," he repeated, more forcefully this time, "There are things you need to know. Now, Strongarm. Not later. Now. Everything else can take care of itself for now."

Obediently, but with obvious reluctance, Strongarm lowered him to the ground until his tires touched down on the soft red earth at the side of the road. Still visibly concerned with secrecy and security, she immediately transformed and sat so that their headlights faced each other. It wasn't strictly necessary, the Autobots could see out of the side and rear-view mirrors just fine.

They sat in silence for a number of seconds, until Strongarm began to fidget.

"The first thing you need to know is that you did a good job. You acted quickly, and made the best choices you could have given the circumstances."

"Lieutenant, I was just-"

"That said," Bumblebee went on, ignoring the interruption, "it was and is clear that you are not prepared for what we are now facing. Unfortunately, I can only tell you a limited amount about our enemy's capabilities. But I can tell you about her origins and motivations."

"How? Do you know her?"

"No," he admitted, "I have never seen her before. But I knew her late master all too well."

"So she _is_ a Decepticon," Strongarm surmised, assuming as Bumblebee had that Lachesis had once answered to Megatron himself.

"No. And that's what makes her so dangerous."

"I don't follow," Strongarm admitted.

"I know," Bumblebee sighed, then asked, "Have you ever heard the name 'Pit Viper'?"

"No. Who was he?"

"Originally? He was a gladiator in the pits of Kaon, the same Kaon that forged Megatron. He was Megatron's original second-in-command, and the only Decepticon besides Megatron that another former gladiator -Soundwave- ever answered to or respected. He was a strategist, a manipulator, and a spy. His greatest weapon was his way with words, which he used against all who opposed Megatron, ridiculing them or else convincing them to follow the cause. He convinced many Autobots, with or without their knowledge, to act as spies for the Decepticon cause."

"I never heard about any of this."

"That's because his time was short in terms of the war. It wasn't long before an air commander -Starscream- found a way into Megatron's trust by telling him that Pit Viper had ambitions of his own, and was plotting to overthrow Megatron at the first opportunity. Whether or not that was true, perhaps only Pit Viper himself ever knew. But he was cast out of the Decepticon ranks, and expected to die in that war zone, either at the hand of Autobots or else other Decepticons who wanted him dead."

"But I'm guessing he didn't die."

"No, he did not," Bumblebee confirmed, "Pit Viper survived with the help of an unwitting Autobot, and later attempted to regain his position with Megatron by hand delivering a wounded Scout for interrogation. His plan backfired, and Pit Viper's loyalty to Megatron dissolved then and there."

Bumblebee paused, but Strongarm said nothing. She didn't need to ask who the Scout had been.

"Pit Viper swore revenge on all who had wronged him, and hatched a plan which he executed here on Earth, with the intention of wiping out both Autobots and Decepticons alike."

"What happened?" Strongarm asked when Bumblebee didn't go on.

"I did," he said quietly, "Pit Viper came after me... after someone I cared about. And then I killed him."

The admission stunned Strongarm. She knew of course, had read and studied Autobot history. She had always known on some level that Bumblebee had killed during that war. But, somehow, it had always been just once in her mind, when he brought down Megatron in that final, epic battle.

It had been a moment of sheer triumph, not regret. But there was a crack in his voice now, and she couldn't tell if it was sorrow or hate that brought it on. Either way, she had the chilling feeling that the death of Pit Viper had been nothing like that of Megatron.

"If Pit Viper is dead, then who attacked you?"

"Bonds were forged in that war. On both sides. The last of the Autobots were not just allies. We were as close as family. When Pit Viper was betrayed, he was not the only one to leave the Decepticon ranks."

"The snakes that attacked you..."

"Are what remains of Pit Viper. They are his family. And they, like him, want one thing: Revenge."


	5. Chapter 5

Strongarm was silent on the drive back to the scrapyard. She must have had a million clarifying questions spinning in her mind, but couldn't seem to form any of them into something coherent. Or perhaps she was merely afraid of the answers she didn't want to hear.

Bumblebee would have answered truthfully any questions she asked, but volunteered no further information. He knew she was processing all the implications of what he'd told her, and deciding how best to deal with the new-found knowledge that these serpents were nothing like what she had been fighting on Earth thus far. Worse still, their ultimate objective seemed absolutely clear.

They were here to kill Bumblebee.

But if that was their desired goal, they seemingly had a strange way of going about it. The leader of them had multiple opportunities to bite Bumblebee, to poison him like Sideswipe and Grimlock had been. But she hadn't. She had instead toyed with him; ultimately leaving him relatively unharmed.

Bumblebee was not bewildered. It was exactly what Pit Viper would have done. Pit Viper understood suffering to be worse than death, and mental anguish was the most exquisite form of pain he knew. Attacking Bee's team hurt him more than anything Lachesis could have done to him.

But this was only the beginning, merely the first warning of what was to come.

Still unable to move with any degree of ease or predictability, Bumblebee rode on the trailer. It gave him time to think, as the world flashed by in its dizzying array of colors and forms. There was no need to cover him with a tarp; there really wasn't anything strange about a car being towed.

But he wasn't really seeing things as they were now, in his mind's eye he had returned to Earth as it had been. Given the size of the Earth and length of the war, it wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that Bumblebee had been almost everywhere on the planet at one time or another.

He had been a Scout here on Earth as he had been on Cybertron. Scouting included learning the lay of the land, as well as the deployment of enemy troops. Even after all this time, he still remembered it. He remembered all of it, every rock, tree and stop sign.

His incredible memory had saved his life more times than he cared to count, but it was also something of a curse, because it meant he could remember -in startling detail- everything that had been and was no more. He would have preferred to forget many things. Most especially Pit Viper.

Even with all the words he had, Bumblebee could not adequately express the Hell Pit Viper had put him through, or the sheer power the Viper had held over his victims. There weren't enough words in the world to explain what the Viper had been truly capable of.

He had been a gladiator, but his truest strength lay not in his ability to fight – but in the way he used words to confuse and control those around him, driving their actions and convincing them of things that -given a cursory glance- didn't make any kind of sense.

Pit Viper was a creature of darkness, who did not seek power but instead sought only to take it. His power was in others losing their own. He might have made his victims stumble, but it was their own thoughts, feelings, doubts and weaknesses that made them fall before him.

The Viper could have been listed under the very definition of "Deception".

It was difficult for Bumblebee to imagine anyone following him, particularly after his fall from Megatron's good graces. From what little Bumblebee knew, the majority of the Decepticons at the time had hated him not only because he was favored by Megatron over them, but also due to his talent for manipulating them as he did the enemy, telling lies and half-truths and twisting truth to his own ends. They feared and loathed him, but dared not do anything against him with Megatron on his side.

When he was painted as a traitor, the remaining Decepticons came to hate him just as much, for they were loyal to Megatron and would not have any usurp him. Soundwave had been especially furious, and was reputed to have spent every spare moment on Cybertron hunting the vile traitor. Certainly he had hunted the Viper with zeal once Earth became the battlefield. So great was his loathing of Pit Viper that Soundwave had actually passed up more than one chance to end Bumblebee's life in pursuit of his goal. He had not been the only one to pass by a lesser enemy in the hunt for Pit Viper.

In this awareness, Bumblebee found a glimmer of understanding.

Pit Viper had never been careless with his words, never lacked understanding of or caution in using the ability he had spent a lifetime perfecting. If he could elicit such hatred in even the most disciplined, passive and forgiving individuals, surely he could also spark the fires of passion, calling forth a loyalty deeper than even Megatron himself could ever hope to achieve.

Surely that was what had happened. Somehow, Pit Viper had turned his abhorrent skill to building himself a following that would surely go with him to the grave if he so required it.

But, if he had built such an army, why had he not employed them years ago when he came to Earth? Why would he have set out alone on a mission that he must have known could claim his life?

Bumblebee didn't have the answer to that.

What he did know was that Lachesis was planning something, that she had in mind a complex and deadly revenge for the death of the master she had evidently sworn her life to. Even now he was dead, she still carried out his work; though that work had lost all purpose or meaning.

The war was over, there was no one left to fight.

The old guard had fallen, the remaining Decepticons had little part in the war, and the Autobot warriors of the time were gone from this place, perhaps forever.

Except for Bumblebee.

He who had taken what Lachesis felt was hers.

He had taken more than her master or lover or whatever the Viper had been. He had destroyed her world, which had undoubtedly been built by the silvered words of Pit Viper. In killing Pit Viper, Bumblebee had brought to ruin the very foundation of that world. It was only logical for Lachesis to respond in kind, attacking not Bumblebee himself, but everything that he held dear, destroying the life he led and everything he believed in. There was no mystery in that.

* * *

The combination of technology and biology that was the make up of all Cybertronians was complex; the way the two interrelated was one of the greatest scientific mysteries of all time. Even Cybertronian medics didn't fully understand it.

Certain body parts -such as tires- could be wholly replaced without causing pain, though every Cybertronian reportedly had feeling in their tires once attached. Other parts, like the T-Cog (the organ responsible for transformation), could only be removed or repaired during stasis without causing discomfort. Oddly, while every Cybertronian was able to feel tires, they seldom knew if their T-Cog was missing until they attempted to transform and found themselves unable to. Energon was the lifeblood of all Cybertronians, yet it never passed through the spark as blood went through the human heart. But the spark was their source of power and life, a Cybertronian whose spark stopped pulsing would be dead inside of thirty seconds. Even if energon were forced through them as blood could be through the human body, their spark would not revive.

No spark, after its pulsing ceased, ever started again.

Or so Cybertronian medical science said. But that didn't explain the continued existence of Optimus Prime. Nor did it explain the longer standing -if less confounding- mystery behind Bumblebee, whose spark had been not only stopped but completely shattered as well.

How his life had been restored was uncertain at best, utterly inexplicable at worst. It was something that could not be repeated, and perhaps should not be. In any case, the resurrection was only a brief footnote, one nobody talked about or theorized on. Perhaps science wasn't meant to ever begin to scratch the surface of miracles.

Fixit didn't know, but he did know he could use a little of the latter right now, and a bit more of the former as well. He wasn't a medic, he was a glorified prison guard. With Sideswipe and Grimlock, he found himself well beyond his depth, and sinking fast. He didn't know how to save them.

In the less than twenty minutes since he was bitten, Sideswipe had gone down fast. His spark was flickering, and Fixit knew that was his body failing to fight off the effects of the bite on both a technological and biological level.

The bite was two-fold. Firstly, it entered the energon stream and used that to flood into the rest of the body from the bite site. In touching technology, it acted as a computer virus would, making the system go haywire and then crash. Its affect on the biological systems was more devastating, but essentially the same. It interrupted the natural function of the body, and then stopped it. Small currents of electricity bounced back and forth through Sideswipe's systems, the energon in his body acting as a conduit for the artificial lightning striking at his core.

Fixit had only one option, and he took it. He placed Sideswipe in a stasis pod and activated it. It probably wouldn't halt the venom's progress entirely, but surely it could slow the process down long enough for him to find a cure. No sooner had he done this than Strongarm had come with Grimlock.

In his dinosaurian form, Grimlock would not fit into a stasis pod. But he either would not -or could not- transform when Fixit asked him to. Lying with his body rolled to the side, Grim roared, the volume and power of his voice shaking the unstable towers of compressed scrapyard vehicles. It was a cry of fear and pain, but it was also a ferocious warning. Like a wounded animal, Grim was more dangerous now than ever, particularly to anyone dumb enough to try and help him by getting close.

Fixit trembled slightly, but came forward. Grimlock swung his massive head towards Fixit, and his blazing blue eyes pinned the minicon to the spot. Muzzle extended, Grimlock roared again, the white ring of his eyes widened, making his gaze unfocused. He probably couldn't see well enough to recognize Fixit. It was unclear if he would have cared even if he had been able to see.

Grim snapped at the air, metal clacking against metal with savage force. Enough force to not only crush Fixit if he got between those jaws, but snap him completely in half.

"Easy, Grimlock. Take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to examine-" Grim cut him off with a roar, scrabbling in the dirt and struggling to get his feet under his body.

Shakily, Grim began to raise himself from the ground. His right leg buckled under the weight. With a high-pitched yelp, Grimlock came crashing back to the ground. He shook his head and growled, but did not attempt to stand a second time.

His little tantrum had shown Fixit exactly what he needed. Fixit's eyes were drawn to the leg that had failed to support the mighty dinobot, and he quickly spotted the broken fang lodged in the knee joint.

Fixit understood. With that there, Grim could not stand. He could not attack. But he also could not transform, which was what Fixit now needed him to do.

 _Easy does it, Fixit,_ he thought to himself, _All you have to do is get close enough._

Hands out in front of him to show he meant no harm, Fixit slowly began to slide around to the side of Grimlock. Snarling in rage and pain, the dinobot reared the upper half of his body, twisted and thumped to the ground with his head pointing directly at Fixit, the giant mouth agape.

 _He could swallow you whole without even realizing it,_ Fixit thought shakily.

Grimlock's eyes showed no trace of any recognition. He wasn't exactly a gentle sweetheart at the best of times, but just now he was looking at Fixit as though he was the enemy. Though he had no firsthand experience, Fixit knew how Grimlock traditionally treated his enemies, especially when Bumblebee wasn't there to check him before he took things too far.

It was not for nothing that Grimlock had been a prisoner on the _Alchemor_. He was dangerous, even when he meant well. And just now, he didn't especially look as though he meant well. In fact, he really looked as though he meant to eat Fixit like finger food if the minicon ever got close enough.

"Grimlock, it's me; Fixit! Don't you know me?"

It was clear from the dinobot's glazed expression that he did not. What was unclear was whether or not Grimlock even understood the words being aimed at him. They didn't appear to be anything but an irritating noise to him, because he just kept looking more ticked off and growled every time Fixit said anything.

Fixit kept trying to slide around to get at Grimlock's knee, convinced that the removal of the offending object in the dinobot's limb would somehow resolve the anger in Grim's eyes.

The poison was affecting him slower than it had Sideswipe, but it was also behaving differently. Just how differently, Fixit couldn't tell without a scan, and Grim wasn't having any of that just now.

By this time after the bite, Sideswipe had been on the ground, exhausted from screaming and unable to move on his own. Grimlock seemed to be grounded, but not because of the poison in his system. It was possible he had some ability to fight off the virus or perhaps the venom itself. Fixit needed to know if that was the case and, if so, he needed to replicate it artificially to help Sideswipe.

Seeing his chance, Fixit darted in suddenly, pulling out a gripper. Grim grunted in surprise, but seemed momentarily uncertain of where Fixit was. Grabbing the lodged tooth, Fixit expertly manipulated it and yanked it free. That was a mistake.

The dinobot roared in pain and rage. He staggered to his feet, nearly trampling Fixit. The claw of his right foot clipped the minicon and knocked Fixit down. Still roaring, Grimlock swung his head from one side to the other, and began to stomp his feet. On his back, Fixit scrambled backward, away from the metal ripping claws that were tearing furrows in the bare earth.

Seeing him, the dinobot swung towards Fixit with his jaws opened wide.

 _This is it: I'm going to die here._


	6. Chapter 6

An earth shaking roar startled Strongarm from her thoughts. She jammed on the brakes unevenly and nearly careened into a precarious pile of scrap. The ground rattled under her tires and she heard the sound of metal shaking on all sides of her; the towers of scrap began to wobble slightly.

In a moment, Fixit came squealing around the corner of an aisle of junked refrigerators, his hands waving above his head wildly. He shot right in front of Strongarm and kept on going. The pile at the end of the aisle Fixit had just left suddenly exploded outward and Strongarm saw what the minicon was fleeing from.

With a roar, Grimlock sent fridges scattering as he shook his head angrily. His optics locked in on the fleeing Fixit and he stormed after the minicon, crushing anything that got in his way.

Overwhelmed with disbelief, Strongarm sat motionless, not sure what to do. But Bumblebee did.

Strongarm listened to Bee's engine cough, refuse to turn over, sputter, cough and finally start with a harsh chugging sound. Rather than reverse and drive off the end of the trailer, Bumblebee gunned it, heaving his weight onto his back tires so his front ones could 'hop' onto Strongarm. He used her as a launch ramp and she cried out with surprise, nearly throwing Bee's aim by bucking at the sudden weight on her back and roof.

In vehicle mode, Bumblebee looked tiny compared to Grimlock, but when he hit the dinobot at the neck just above the shoulder, the impact was enough to not only stun Grim, but actually knock him off balance so that he nearly fell. Bee's front bumper caught on Grim's armor, but his momentum kept him going, flipping him upside down onto Grimlock's back. He crashed down on his rear bumper on the other side of Grim from which he had started, teetered a moment, then slammed down onto his tires. He floored it, shifted gears and wheeled to face the dinobot. Grimlock shook his head dizzily and snapped his jaws. Looking dazed and baffled, he stomped his feet and turned towards Bumblebee.

"Stop it, Grim!" Bumblebee commanded, the order spoken with such ferocity that Strongarm flinched even though he wasn't speaking to her, "Stand down!"

Strongarm realized that the power in his voice was a bluff. It had to be. The paralytic must be wearing off for Bumblebee to move with such speed, but he had not transformed. The only reason he could have for not doing so was either that he couldn't, or else the process would be slow and render him helpless. If Grim turned on him, Bee had no real way to defend himself.

Grimlock stomped one foot, leaned down and roared at Bumblebee's level. Bumblebee did not give so much as an inch; in fact he did absolutely nothing at all.

It took less than a second. One instant, Bumblebee was on the ground facing Grimlock, the next the dinobot had the muscle car between his powerful jaws and was biting down. Strongarm realized she had to do something, and fast, or else the lieutenant was really going to eat it. Or, to be more accurate, be eaten _by_ it.

In a flash, she transformed, drew her weapon and fired a warning shot over Grim's head. Incredulous, the dinobot stopped his assault and slowly, very slowly, turned his head to look at Strongarm. Wide, staring eyes looked at her without seeming to see her. She was nothing to him, just an annoyance. He feared nothing smaller than himself right now.

"Put the lieutenant down," Strongarm growled, narrowing her eyes, "Or the next one goes straight through your head. I _mean_ it, Grim: next time I won't miss."

The dinobot growled quietly, but didn't move. It was as if he hadn't understood her. She fired a second warning shot, this one near his feet. Grim twitched, jerked, snarled and bit down harder on his prize. The groaning of metal buckling under pressure was almost more than Strongarm could take.

She fired a third shot. This time, right into the dinobot's right flank.

Roaring, Grimlock dropped the vehicle. Bumblebee dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, landing on his side and remaining motionless as the dinobot roared and shook above him.

"Don't make me do this, Grim!" Strongarm pleaded, "I don't want to hurt you!"

Enraged, Grimlock whirled to face her and charged. But his wounded leg buckled under him and he staggered, tumbling onto his side. Strongarm leaped out of his way as he slid towards her and finally came to a stop with his head in the dirt and belly on the ground.

He started to try to get up, but Strongarm moved swiftly and knelt down, pressing her knee against his neck. She planted the end of her weapon against the side of his head to further make the point.

"Stay down, Grim."

Grimlock did not appear to hear her. He struggled under her, but all of his great strength came to nothing if he couldn't get his feet under him. He was incredibly powerful when upright, capable of easily pushing Strongarm to the ground, dragging her away, or even picking her up in his jaws, throwing her or shaking her until she literally broke in half; not to mention the damage a single kick could do. But the majority of that flexible strength was contained in his legs, which now flailed helplessly off the ground. He could snap his jaws and kick out all he liked, but it wouldn't mean a thing without something between his teeth or under his claws. Strongarm had her prisoner exactly where she wanted him.

Grimlock continued to thrash, but Strongarm turned her main attention to Bumblebee.

"I see the paralytic is wearing off," she said.

Bumblebee didn't reply. Instead, he began to transform. It looked like a sort of slow motion dance, where the precision of each movement was favored above the overall flow of the routine. It looked awkward, uncomfortable, painful even. With each shift of an armor plate or gear, tire or extremity, Bumblebee was obliged to pause and focus on a different piece of movement before executing it. Transformation had never looked so difficult to Strongarm.

She wanted to applaud when he was done.

Bumblebee crouched on one knee, pressing a hand against the ground for balance, his gaze locked with Grimlock's. A shudder rippled through Bee, and Strongarm was surprised to realize that Grimlock had quit struggling during Bumblebee's transformation, and now he lay utterly still.

"Let him go, Strongarm," Bumblebee said, without looking away from Grim's face.

"But Lieutenant-" she never got to finish the sentence.

"I said let him go!" his eyes seemed to flash with momentary anger, but he still didn't look at her.

Uneasily, Strongarm shifted her weight back on her heels. Slowly, she lifted her knee from Grim's neck and withdrew her weapon, expecting Grimlock to at any second heave himself upright and leap to his feet with a roar. But Grim remained motionless.

As she stood and backed away, Strongarm saw that Fixit had returned, and was fretting quietly to himself. Catching his eye, Strongarm put a finger to her mouth, suggesting he remain silent. The sound of Bumblebee's voice rumbling slow startled them both.

"Grimlock, listen carefully: I need you to transform. You need to be in your robot mode."

Grim grunted, but didn't move an inch.

"You heard me, Grim. Now do as I tell you."

Bumblebee's voice seemed to come from a place deep inside him, it somehow didn't sound like him at all.

Grimlock seemed to recognize the authority it held, and reluctantly obeyed. His transformation was slow and hitching, even less graceful than Bumblebee's had been.

But he did transform.

 _Now_ he could be placed in stasis.

* * *

It was so easy, so terribly easy, to forget the power of a Predacon. An ancient, once extinct race, they were the original hunter, their savagery and intelligence making them the perfect predator for the living robots of Cybertron. They were immensely strong, vicious and strictly adhered to rules of living that only they seemed to understand. Grimlock was _not_ a Predacon. But today Bumblebee had seen for the first time just how close a dinobot -Grimlock- was to it.

The look in his electric blue eyes had reminded Bumblebee of the fierce Predaking, the first Predacon to be raised from the grave by the mad science of the Decepticons. Predaking could not be viewed as truly evil, but his animal aggression made him incredibly dangerous to cross. Predaking might not have a good side, but he certainly had a bad side, and a bot would do well to stay off it.

The moment the connection was drawn in Bumblebee's mind, he knew he could get Grimlock back under control. Even in his deepest rages, Predaking could still be reasoned with. Perhaps Grimlock had lesser intellect than Predaking, but they were cut from the same cloth.

Still, he felt sick at spark when Grimlock was finally locked into the stasis pod. It felt like a betrayal. He was only half listening as Strongarm peppered Fixit with questions.

"Why was Grim acting like that? That's not how Sideswipe reacted."

"Grimlock is a very different organism from Sideswipe. And Sideswipe was in robot mode; Grimlock wasn't. Then again, it may just be a difference in personality. Or maybe it's a different poison," Fixit paused in his scans and calculations, "That would be very bad."

"Sideswipe dropped like a sack of scrap when he was bitten. How come Grim was moving so well?"

"That's the same question," Fixit pointed out, adding, "Now will you leave me alone? I have work to do."

Taken aback by the unusually brusque tone Fixit used, Strongarm fell silent and moved away. Fixit didn't even seem to notice she was gone, he was focused entirely on the task at hand.

"You okay?" Bumblebee asked Strongarm when she came to stand next to him.

"I'm not the one who was bitten by a dinobot," she said, looking sidelong at him.

"Dents can be repaired and tires replaced," Bumblebee said dismissively.

"He didn't just dent you," Strongarm reminded him, "I heard your armor cracking."

"I'll heal and what doesn't heal can be fixed," he sighed and looked her full in the face, "I'm more concerned about you. You're the only fighter we have left."

"But you said the paralysis wore off," Strongarm said.

"It did. But I can't move fast, or I'll tear something for sure. If it comes down to a fight, I'm afraid I won't be much use to you. If Lachesis and her followers find us, we're going to be in deep trouble."

It was a fine point Bumblebee was trying to make. He was hurting some, and had taken heavy damage from Grimlock, but he wasn't in any real danger. Yet.

But he was wounded, and the strength, agility and speed required for a head to head confrontation with the serpents would make it much worse. He'd felt almost like he was tearing apart when he transformed that last time, and he found that he could feel the strain of his body trying to compensate for the hurt pieces of itself by putting more load on the strongest parts. Even standing like he was now was an effort.

He didn't want Strongarm to know how extensive the damage was, but she needed to understand that he wouldn't necessarily have her back if they got into a situation. She was a cop, he was her partner, she should be able to rely on him at all times. If she couldn't, it was his duty to make sure she knew beforehand, and that she understood why.

She had followed his lead earlier, but in her own mind she was still a cadet and might not have acted on her own at all. He was the senior partner, it was his duty to take the lead and tell her what to do. In her mind, they were still cops. She'd even handled Grim more like a cop than a soldier, until he pushed her hard enough. If she tried to secure a surrender and make an arrest with the serpents, they would eat her alive. She had to realize that this was not the comparatively tame streets of Cybertron. This was war.

Strongarm was a cop to her core, with rules and regulations spinning through her head at a million miles a minute, the police handbook was her Bible, and she lived by the code as if it were a religion. Such devotion to duty was to be commended. But it would serve her ill here. All those codes, rules, regulations and guidelines meant nothing on a battlefield. A lot of people thought of a cop and a soldier as being more or less the same thing, but they couldn't be more different.

Bumblebee was a Warrior first, a law enforcement officer solely because there was no war left to fight. The moment he knew a war was at hand, he came alive, and the world changed utterly for him. He wasn't keen on his leadership position, and it was a hard way of living, but his training and experience had carried him through thus far, and he had faith enough to believe he could keep going. He had learned from the best through careful observation, and he knew what it meant to be both follower and leader. He was cut out for one, and was filling the role of the other.

But Strongarm... this wasn't _her_ life. She wasn't meant for this.

She had been created to be something different, but circumstances were serving to hammer her into the shape of a warrior, because that's what was needed here and now. She was still being forged, she wasn't there yet. But she was going to have to get there in a hurry if Bumblebee's suspicions were correct.

He didn't think Lachesis had followed them, Strongarm had been too careful for that. But he believed the she-serpent had a way of finding them. She was going to come here sooner or later.

When she did, Strongarm would have to be ready, because she would be the last one standing.

He waited, watching Strongarm's face. Her eyes hardened and she clenched her fists for a moment. Then she relaxed, resigning herself to the hand fate had dealt her.

"Tell me more about Pit Viper," she said, "I need to know everything."

Bumblebee dipped his head in silent assent, and began to speak.

* * *

"You actually teamed up with a Decepticon to hunt him down?" Strongarm said, her voice laced with disbelief.

Bumblebee was surprised that this was what shocked her about the story. That had not been the first -or the last- time an Autobot and Decepticon found themselves working together to achieve a common goal. Decepticons could not be trusted, except to pursue their own selfish ends, but most of them were not so stupid and narrow-minded as to overlook a chance for personal gain.

Pit Viper had been as much a thorn in the side of the Decepticons as the Autobots. On Bumblebee's side of things, he had been hurting for allies at the time. His only other choice had been to go it alone, and that would have been a deadly mistake. Even as it was, the Viper had nearly gotten what he wanted.

Then Bumblebee remembered who he was talking to.

Strongarm was young, and knew the war only from stories. Not long ago, petty vandal types like Sideswipe would have not only been overlooked, they wouldn't even have been noticed (if they'd had the chance to exist at all). But that was viewing history in terms of his own life. To Strongarm, Sideswipe was a major criminal nuisance that needed to be put down hard and fast. To her, Sideswipe had been a dangerous bad guy on Cybertron. But to Bumblebee, he was little more than an obnoxious brat, irritating and destructive but largely harmless.

He could remember Strongarm's reaction to letting Grimlock go free quite clearly. She had been shocked and appalled by the notion. In her mind, Grimlock represented the Decepticons. How little she knew. Grim, assuming he had ever really been a Decepticon, was probably just a pawn, too dimwitted to question what he was told to do. Without being prompted, he didn't think about good and evil, right and wrong. His was a simple existence: He knew he liked to hit things, and the Decepticons let him do it as much as he wanted, and even probably found really neat and unusual things for him to hit.

On some level, Strongarm had to know that Soundwave had far surpassed Grimlock and Sideswipe in terms of criminal activity. She knew he had been a Gladiator, and the greatest supporter of Megatron. And she probably also knew that Soundwave had been Bumblebee's equal and opposite. At least, that was what the records indicated. Soundwave was _dangerous_.

She'd flinched at Sideswipe, balked at Grimlock, and now expressed disbelief at Soundwave.

What _would_ she think if she knew that Megatron himself had once literally been in Bumblebee's head?

Perhaps better she didn't.

"Yes. Soundwave and I tracked Pit Viper down. I needed the skill of a gladiator to bring down a gladiator. Soundwave was the only option. When he was injured, I went on and finished it alone."

"You mean you killed Pit Viper," Strongarm corrected.

"Single shot to the spark," Bumblebee confirmed quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Strongarm raised a fisted hand to her chest, behind the armor of which her spark beat steadily. She did not appear conscious of what she was doing, and she just stared silently at Bumblebee.

"Some monsters can't be put in a cage, Strongarm," Bumblebee explained gently, "And it's disastrous to try. Left alive, Pit Viper would have found a way to continue causing harm. And he was smart enough that it's very possible he could have actually succeeded at what he was trying to do."

"So now we're dealing with his angry followers," Strongarm reminded him, "Like that's better."

She seemed to have forgotten that every Decepticon they had to chase down had escaped incarceration and -to add salt to the wound- had been a follower of Megatron, who was equally as dead as the Viper. And had, by no small coincidence, also been slain by Bumblebee.

"Just be glad we no longer have to deal with the head of the snake."

He was glad Strongarm wasn't familiar with Earth mythology. But even if she wasn't, he remembered what he'd been told about the Hydra which grew two heads for each one you cut off. Bumblebee himself had never heard the older version of the myth, which suggested Hydra had but one head and was surrounded by offspring which bore poison equally as deadly as its own.

"Is your brain going rusty?" Strongarm exclaimed, "Sideswipe and Grimlock are sick, maybe _dying_ , you look like you belong in a junkyard, and it sounds to me like you think those snakes were just playing with you, that they weren't even being serious yet!"

"Had it been Pit Viper, we wouldn't have known he was among us at all until it was too late."

He didn't know how to explain to her that Pit Viper could say things, could do things, and get you thinking things. Had it been Pit Viper, he would have turned the Autobots on one another purely with his own lying tongue. He wouldn't have needed venom to make Grimlock turn on his friends, only a little time to talk to him. Bumblebee was never sure how the Viper did it, but he could convince you that everyone was against you, or alternately convince everyone that _you_ were against _them_.

Strongarm had never seen that kind of power. And, with luck, she never would.

If he had been alive, the Viper could have gathered his followers to him, and guided them to do his bidding, perhaps gaining a greater following. Even in death, it was the ghost of the Viper that kept them going, that gave them direction. But even a phantom was better than the real thing.

Pit Viper was not a martyr, and the followers he'd left behind appeared to have no higher cause or purpose than to take revenge. And, though violent, revenge was ultimately a weak religion which crumbled under the weight of time and outside forces.

Obviously the serpents had spent a great deal of time plotting, and trying to locate the source of their hatred. But when actually faced with the opportunity to succeed in one fell swoop, they hesitated. Bumblebee suspected that their conviction had faltered, and that after the first attack they had been just winging it. To end everything at once was to see the end of their sole purpose.

They had doubt.

The only question was: did that make them less dangerous or merely more unpredictable?

Unexpectedly, he felt a twinge of unease at his core.

The deep, inner sense of the universe was one which most living things took for granted, not even noticing it. But it had a common name on Earth. The sixth sense. It was a poorly defined sense, and typically was referred to as if it were some sort of mystic power and not science at all. It was typically depicted as being the ability to predict the future or to read other's minds, or even to contact the dead.

Bumblebee couldn't speak to what it was for a human, every one of their senses was vastly different from his own in ways only someone who knew human and Cybertronian medicine would be able to clearly define. But he was intimately familiar with his own sixth sense.

He suspected everyone who had been in the Great War was consciously aware of this sense which so many took completely for granted, some even going so far as to deny its very existence.

This sixth sense was usually a warning that he was about to die. It occurred before any trauma took place, but injury and near-death always followed. He'd felt it before being captured and tortured by Megatron. And he'd felt it just before Megatron had shattered his spark and killed him.

It had been slightly different that time. It was not a warning, but an assurance. Death was not only possible at that time, it was definite. But that hadn't stopped him, or even slowed him down. In fact, it was only later that he realized he'd felt anything at all. He didn't remember dying, only knew he had because of the disbelief and awe which had been directed his way upon revival.

But he did remember that cold feeling in the center of his being, and he felt it now.

 _Death is coming,_ it said.

He realized Strongarm was staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "It's just... you looked like you were seeing a ghost. Again."

He smiled slightly, more for her benefit than anything.

"Maybe I was, Strongarm. Maybe I was."

Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe Pit Viper had messed him up even more than he'd known and he was imagining things. Maybe he was just having a delayed response to being attacked by Lachesis and her kind. Maybe it was just taking awhile for his system to process.

"You're sure you're okay?" Strongarm asked, with typical seriousness, "Positive you didn't get bitten? After all, that snake was... was kind of all over you."

"Oh come on, you know how fast a bite dropped Sideswipe. It's not like I'm any more immune than he is," Bumblebee said, startled by the sharpness of his own voice, "The snake spit at me, that's all. It's pretty much worn off now anyway. I'm _fine_."

That sounded like a lie. Why did it sound like a lie? He'd told her as much of the truth as she needed to know, as much as she could stand. Some things she didn't need to know, or want to know either.

"I'm sorry," he sighed wearily, "I didn't mean to snap," _Yes, you did_ , his mind told him, "I'm just... just tired is all," was that a lie? He wasn't sure, because he suddenly did feel very tired.

No, more than just tired. He felt exhausted, as though the fight had taken an age instead of a span of minutes. He felt suddenly the weight of years between himself and Strongarm, and understood for perhaps the first time the tired, far away look Optimus Prime used to get at times.

He had seen so much, learned so many things, he didn't even know how much more he knew than Strongarm. Or any of the others really. How much knowledge and experience did he really have? And yet, even given all that, he still knew and understood so very little.

The feeling he'd had was gone, the sixth sense was quiet now.

Maybe it really had just been his imagination.

Yeah. And maybe this whole day had just been a dream.

* * *

Sideswipe had never felt so thoroughly awful in his life. Every pulse of his spark seemed to throb through him, the energon in his veins seemed to be boiling. His joints felt stiff as though they were caked with rust, and his mind was sluggish, his optics slow to come online and everything was pixelated and blurry even when they did activate.

He groaned, doing a self diagnostic as he tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up. Even while that was running, he was also doing a memory scan, trying to figure out what had happened to him lately. Nothing immediately came up on either. A deeper look brought something from storage. Slowly, his brain clicked over into a sketchy mental replay of what had happened. Oh yes, he'd been bitten by a giant snake. He remembered that now... wait, why had that happened?

His processes hitched as the memory connected itself to the self diagnostic and came up with the new information that a foreign substance was coursing through his veins along with the energon. He was no medic, but was well aware that unidentified substances in the system were typically a bad thing.

He didn't feel better, but he did manage to sit up, and his vision unscrewed itself a little. He shook his head, trying to knock anything loose back into place. It worked. Sort of. The blurriness cleared up, but the resolution didn't improve, and everything consequently looked to be a mass of unidentified blobs that sort of congealed into one another in a shapeless and featureless universe of various squares made from several shades of brown.

"Ah good, you're up," the voice whined through his consciousness, and he realized his auditory system was scarcely better than his optobionics.

Sideswipe winced, trying to clear the static from his brain. A subroutine he was seldom aware of popped up a notification, identifying the speaker for him as Fixit. He shuffled through the images in his memory, trying to find when and where Fixit had come into it. But all memories files past the bite had been utterly corrupted. That was vaguely unsettling.

"Look straight ahead," Fixit had rolled up next to him without Sideswipe's noticing.

Sideswipe had no idea where straight ahead was, but he tried to comply. A painful brightness scalded his visual field and the view became a solid pixel of pure white. Sideswipe flinched and tried to pull away, but became aware that someone (Fixit, he hoped) was holding his chin and he didn't have the strength to free himself. He continued to gaze at the bright white, the only thing he could see.

Then it clicked off. His vision slowly, uncomfortably slowly, adjusted to the change in light. When it did, he was pleased to find that he could see much better now. Things were still a bit pixelated, but he could identify what he was looking at now. He shook his head reflexively.

"Give it a few minutes," Fixit recommended, "You should be able to see fine in no time."

Sideswipe's sluggish mind attempted to resolve the discrepancy between the two sentences, but he quickly dropped it. It had been a long time since base programming had surfaced like that. He didn't enjoy the sensation of being more logic unit than personality. He shuddered involuntarily, a distinctly biological response that made him feel better somehow.

"Is he going to be okay?" that was Russell.

Sideswipe leaned forward, placing his head between his hands. It felt like that time a wasp had tried to build a nest under one of his fenders, only it was happening in his brain.

"He'll be fine," Fixit assured the boy, but didn't sound convincing even to Sideswipe's scattered senses.

Sideswipe had difficulty finding the circuits that led to his vocal processor. When he finally did, his voice sounded strange to him, but that may have just been the quality of his hearing.

"Ow... what... what happened?"

He expected Fixit to respond, but the low rumble he heard identified in his brain as being Bumblebee.

"You were bitten when we fought the serpents. You nearly died from their venom. You and Grimlock both. Fixit found a way to save your life. Grimlock wasn't immune, but had resistance to the venom. Fixit managed to create an antidote using information from that."

"I followed... let's see... none of that," Sideswipe groaned, still trying to straighten out his vision.

"It doesn't matter now," Bumblebee told him, "Don't worry about it."

Sideswipe let it go at that. He felt like his engine was chugging, only it was in his head. He'd never felt so slow in his life. Everything about him was built for speed and agility, and that included his processor. But now it seemed the world was going much too fast. Even Fixit seemed to be talking fast, which meant Bumblebee was probably speaking slowly. Did he know somehow what Sideswipe was struggling with in his head? How would he know if Fixit didn't? Wasn't Fixit the one with the medical training? Sideswipe shook his head again, trying to peel himself off that track.

It wasn't interesting and he had no way of answering the questions and it seemed absurd that his mind was even latching onto that train of thought at all... until he thought about how hard it was to think in any capacity. It was a line of questioning he could follow, where most things seemed too difficult to even question, much less struggle to understand.

"Why... why can't I think?" he asked hesitantly, half afraid to reveal his weakness.

"We've been wondering that for a long time," that was Strongarm.

"Strongarm," Bumblebee again, gentle but firm, "Not right now."

Sideswipe didn't need to see to recognize the eye roll. But Strongarm said nothing.

"The toxin invaded your mechanics as well as your biological systems," Fixit said in his rapid, unrealistically high-pitched voice, "You experienced nearly complete systems failure. Your technological side is functioning at almost eighty five percent normal. Biological..." he hesitated, "Significantly less."

"Significantly?" Sideswipe caught the word, and it concerned him.

"About fifteen percent," Fixit amended.

 _That's bad_ , the realization crawled across his consciousness, but didn't solidify into anything.

"It will take your body time to recover," Bumblebee again, "But you'll heal in time."

Sideswipe tried to remember being injured in a way that wasn't merely cosmetic. He'd gotten his share of dents, paint scratches and system jolts. But something that affected him biologically? Cybertronian biology was complicated, and surprisingly fragile if you could get through the layers of technology. But it wasn't often a biological system was damaged from even the most enthusiastic fist fight. Even a gun fight didn't tend to do much more than singe armor and maybe scramble a few circuits.

With agonizing slowness, his mind crawled towards a further question.

"What about you?" he managed to locate and look at Bumblebee directly for the first time.

"Lachesis only overloaded my circuits."

There was a momentary silence, which Fixit broke.

"She did more than that. The fluctuation in your electrical-"

"I'm _fine_ ," there was a warning in Bumblebee's tone.

Fixit said nothing, but Sideswipe imagined he looked crestfallen.

"I assume Lachesis is one of the snakes," Sideswipe said after an awkward pause.

"Yes," Bumblebee said with a sigh, "But you don't need to worry about that now. You need to rest, give your system time to recover. Let me worry about Lachesis."

Rest. Yes. That sounded good.


	8. Chapter 8

Strongarm was not so easily dissuaded from asking questions.

"What fluctuation?" she demanded when they were a distance from Sideswipe, "What does that mean?"

"It just means my system hasn't finished resetting itself," Bumblebee replied, glad Fixit hadn't followed them, "That's all."

"That doesn't sound like what Fixit was about to say," she challenged, "It sounded like he thought it was important."

"Fixit thinks knowing your favorite color is important," he reminded her.

That stopped her cold for about half a second. Then she continued to pursue the subject.

"If there's something wrong with you, I need to know-"

He rounded on her, eyes sparking, "I _told_ you what you need to know!"

He winced and put a hand against his side, feeling the strain of some piece inside him taking on more weight than it was able. He paused, shifting around until things were balanced inside.

"Besides," he said slowly, "most of the damage came from Grimlock. Sideswipe doesn't know about that yet, and he doesn't need to. He can barely speak in sentences, he wouldn't be able to process hearing about what happened with Grimlock right now. Later, but not now."

Strongarm didn't look convinced. It was clear she thought Bumblebee was trying to keep information from her as well as from Sideswipe. That she suspected him of actually _lying_ to them.

He couldn't explain to her that he knew better than that. He also couldn't explain the difference between keeping information on a need to know basis and waiting for a better time before talking about something that -just now- really didn't matter in the slightest.

It really didn't matter how unwell he felt. The only thing that mattered right now was that Fixit had assured him that his assessment of damage had been more or less accurate. He was in a fragile state, but he wasn't dying or even getting worse. Repairs were needed, but there would be time for that later.

It had been eight hours since the fight with the serpents, and they still hadn't showed up. That made him more nervous than he wanted to let on. They should have come here. That they hadn't made him wonder where they were and what they were doing. It crossed his mind that he could have overestimated them, but he somehow doubted it. When he estimated his opponents, he almost invariably underestimated. That piece of self awareness made him doubly uneasy.

Strategy wasn't his strongest suit. The more he tried to guess what the serpents would do, the more uneasy he felt. He was thinking in circles, unable or unwilling to think up more strategies than the one he had first assumed would be theirs. Now the Autobots were wounded, surely the serpents would pursue their advantage. Then a sudden thought struck him, and he turned towards Russell.

He beckoned the boy over with a wave of his hand, then knelt down so he was as close to being on eye level with the kid as he could manage.

"How much do you know about snakes?" Bumblebee asked.

Russell seemed startled by the question, but then he shrugged.

"I used to have a pet king snake."

Bumblebee wasn't sure if that was helpful or not. He didn't know what a king snake was. Heck, he barely understood what humans meant when they said "king", and he certainly wasn't confident in his ability to guess what it meant when applied to a snake.

"How do snakes hunt?" he asked.

"Pet snakes don't hunt at all. I fed mine crickets until he got big, then I fed him mice."

Strongarm looked disgusted. She had trouble accepting the fact that all the living things of Earth ate other living things. Even vegetarians revolted her, because she knew plants were as alive as she was. In fact, she was a little fuzzy on the distinction between a plant and an animal. They both looked more or less the same to her, in the same way that most Cybertronian species looked roughly the same to humans. Bumblebee was long familiar with Earthlings and their eating habits.

"If they're wild," Bumblebee pressed, "how do they hunt their prey? Or fight each other? Do they fight each other?"

"Yes, they fight. But snakes are immune to their own venom. King snakes eat other snakes a lot, even poisonous ones. But poisonous snakes don't usually eat live prey. They poison it with a bite, then wait for it to die. Then they eat it."

Bumblebee nodded his understanding and glanced at Strongarm.

"You think they're waiting for Sideswipe and Grimlock to die?" she asked.

"A lot of the Decepticons we've been hunting bear a certain resemblance to Earth creatures. These look like snakes. And they have venom like snakes. There's no reason to assume they don't think like snakes," Bumblebee replied.

"But Grim and Sideswipe aren't dying," Russell said, then added uncertainly, "Are they?"

"No," Bumblebee reassured him, standing slowly, "but the snakes don't know that."

"Snakes usually bite their prey and then let it go," Russell volunteered, "They track their prey with their tongues. They follow their bitten prey until it dies."

"Well, they're not here," Strongarm pointed out.

"Yet," Bumblebee corrected, thinking to himself, _That we know of_.

"So just wait for them to come to us?" Strongarm crossed her arms, "That's your plan?"

Bumblebee shook his head, "Strongarm, I don't _have_ a plan."

He flinched as he said it, surprised at his tongue's betrayal. He shouldn't have said that out loud.

Now Strongarm really did look scared.

Bumblebee sighed, and tried to think of something he could say to make it better without lying. How he longed for the time when Decepticons were just Decepticons, without any special or wacky abilities. When extra abilities were produced by outside forces, like weapons you carried with you. Back when everything seemed to make sense, and when just being fast was enough.

Had things really ever been that easy? He wasn't sure.

In the back of his head, he felt a sensation like burning, but he was pretty sure that was just panic or maybe embarrassment at having admitted his inadequacy. He didn't say anything about it. Actually, he didn't say anything at all. He just stood helplessly until Strongarm walked away.

"Way to reassure the troops."

Bumblebee shook himself and looked down. He'd forgotten Russell was standing there.

"Oh, like you could do better," Bumblebee returned.

Russell just shrugged and said nothing.

* * *

What rattled Strongarm wasn't that Bumblebee didn't have a plan. He often looked as though he were winging it. But to actually admit to it was another matter entirely. Bumblebee would admit to a lot of things -up to and including personal error- but not having any idea what to do in a given situation?

She knew it was more than just ego on his part. She'd received some basic training at the academy concerning maintaining control over a situation and diffusing panic. Pretending you knew what you were doing could, in certain instances, be just as good as the real thing.

Bumblebee was damn good at it.

Even if he couldn't force a lie and say he had a plan, at the very least he'd say he was working on it, or that things would be okay. Something other than a flat admission like that.

On the other hand, maybe he was trying to press home the fact that he couldn't handle this. He'd already told her that he was injured, and who knew what that had done to his pride. He'd said that, if it came down to a fight, she was the only one of them capable of holding her own.

He'd even told her of the events leading up to his lost voice during the war. It was well known that he'd lost his voice, that Megatron had crushed it because he wouldn't speak even under torture. But how he'd gotten there in the first place had been more or less a mystery.

And never had it been impressed so thoroughly upon Strongarm's consciousness the layers of armor that Megatron had to have already cut through in order to mangle the distinct blend of technology and biology that was a speech center. She'd never thought about what Bumblebee must have endured up to that point. She supposed maybe nobody did.

It was unpleasant to think on, and Bumblebee he certainly never brought it up. He'd evaded most of her questions concerning the war, especially ones about himself.

The only reason he'd talked about it now was to make sure Strongarm knew exactly what she was dealing with. It had obviously been hard on him, but only now did she begin to suspect why he'd done it. He wasn't merely trying to prepare her, he was trying to make her see him as weak, as wounded.

Trying to make sure she understood, in every way, just what was coming.

He'd done his best, but now all she felt was just scared. She would never say it aloud, but her admiration for Bumblebee and really any Autobot to have served in the war wasn't just because they had -quite literally- saved the world she had been born into.

They had done things, suffered and fought and endured, made decisions harder than anyone could imagine, weighing the value of lives and of worlds, knowing the cost better than anyone. They had failed, gotten up and kept fighting. They, the soldiers of Cybertron, had sacrificed not only everything they had, but what they were, their very substance, and -some of them- their own lives.

Strongarm wondered if she could ever know the cost, or if she could really pay the price of the soldiers of the Great War. She supposed not. Even here on Earth, the fighting was little more than life threatening. For the most part, the fate of the world didn't hang in the balance. It was just glorified police work. She was suited to that. But the serpents didn't sound like they would be that way.

The serpents wanted revenge, and they -like Bumblebee- were remnants of a war that was darker, bleaker, and more brutal than anything Strongarm could possibly imagine. It was a war that had torn Cybertron asunder, and lasted longer than Strongarm herself had even been alive.

Bumblebee had been born into that war, he was built for it.

Strongarm... wasn't.

* * *

Lachesis coiled her powerful body around the large boulder upon which she was perching.

Beneath her Amphivena and Crotalus waited. She could taste their curiosity in the air, a sickly sweet, slightly tangy flavor on her receptors. They wanted to know why they were not following the fresh, warm trail of the Autobots. They wanted to know why Lachesis had not crushed the hated Scout when he was in her grip as she was now cracking the rock about which she had coiled herself.

But they did not speak. To ask would be to question she who was the beloved of their leader, lord and master since the fall. To do such a thing would be to invite a swift death at her fangs.

They were not immune to being torn open or having their spark pierced by a well-placed and lengthy fang. Nor were they able to combat the powerful crushing ability Lachesis alone possessed. Like a python with an animal, Lachesis could wrap herself around a Cybertronian and crush his armor with powerful contractions of her body. They were also, unlike true snakes of the same kind, vulnerable to her venom.

The boulder cracked, crunched, but could not break apart with Lachesis coiled around it, holding the broken pieces in place, her head resting at the top of the pile, tongue flicking thoughtfully.

 _{The Scout did not taste of fear. He neither smelled of it, nor felt of it,}_ Lachesis said, in answer to the unasked questions, _{Fear precedes despair, if the Scout feels neither than there is no point in this.}_

Amphivena hissed sharply, lifting her head and expanding her hood; while Crotalus flashed his tongue and shook his tail so that the metal vertebrae and thin sheets of armor rattled together.

 _{Is he not alive?}_ Amphivena hissed, _{All that lives fears to die!}_

 _{What sort of creature is he that he could resist your poison?}_ Crotalus growled.

 _{Hush, children. The Scout lives, the Scout breathes. But the Scout is not like those we have attacked before. He is of the old guard, a soldier. His strength of will was forged in the Great War, tempered and tested by Megatron himself. The Scout will not easily fall prey to his own mind and doubts. But, given time, he will crumble, he will fail, and then we shall have our revenge.}_

These words brought a chorus of approving hisses and rattles, for it was not only to Amphivena and Crotalus she spoke to, but a whole den of serpents, who writhed about on top of one another, crowded as they were into this cave in the woods, concealing themselves from sight.

Lachesis dimmed her eyes with silent pleasure.

Everything - _everything_ \- was going exactly according to plan.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 2 – Avenge Our Blood**

" _And as the heads of Hydra, so my power. Subdued, shall stand as mighty as before: If they should yield their necks unto the sword, thy soldiers' arms could not endure to strike so many blows as I have heads for thee."_ _ **\- Tamburlaine**_

* * *

More than once, Bumblebee had tried to convince Denny and Russell to go somewhere else, but the humans were devoted to their scrapyard. They also appeared to truly believe that they might be able to help. Strongarm probably would have laughed that off and sent them away, had Bumblebee not taken humans so seriously.

In any case, he parked himself in front of the diner in vehicle mode. There was a sentry system set up, but Bumblebee didn't seem to trust it tonight. Frankly, Strongarm didn't either.

She and Fixit stayed with Sideswipe and Grimlock, neither of whom had moved since being taken out of stasis. Sideswipe's determination to sit up had been short lived, and he seemed at least temporarily content to let things work out without him. Grimlock hadn't even stirred, though he had growled once or twice. Fixit theorized that he was recovering more slowly than Sideswipe for the same reason it had taken longer for him to go down in the first place; his metabolism was just slower.

Strongarm just hoped that, when he finally did stir, the dinobot would be recovered enough to recognize them. She wasn't sure they could survive another attack by crazed Grimlock.

Strongarm never liked it when it got dark. She was used to the cities of Cybertron, whose bright lights forestalled any semblance of night nearly all of the time. She wasn't used to a day/night cycle. She felt she'd never grow accustomed to the light falling, and darkness reaching out from the shadows.

Fixit didn't like it either, especially not knowing there were Cybertronian serpents out there that, by all accounts, could swallow him in a single gulp. Although Strongarm suspected his deepest fear was a lack of knowledge. He had found nothing like Lachesis in the database, and that terrified him.

In any case, Fixit hung close at her side, nervously twitching and jerking at every sound. Strangely, she found his fear calming. He was scared enough for the both of them, and his helplessness made her feel more confident in her position of responsibility. She wasn't sure why that was, exactly, but she supposed it was the same instinct to protect and serve that had brought her to the police academy.

With the fall of night there came an end to the waiting. On the razor edge of night, they came. They did not set off the alarms, did not rouse the automated sentry system. They swept in on silence, their low bodies twisting through the dark and evading sensor detection. Their tongues flicked at the dusty ground, guiding them on their quest for the prey they had wounded that morning.

It was Fixit who spotted them first. With a high squeak, he rolled behind Strongarm and pointed fearfully in the direction of what at first seemed to be merely a piece of junk toppled from a pile. Then the junk moved, and the moon above caught the snake's eye, turning it a shimmering green-gold in the night. The arrowhead skull turned towards her, the silver tongue shone bright when it flicked out, and the glowing twin optics seemed to wink at her as the light slid across them.

The snake's body came sliding around the tower of junk, flat and nearly invisible. The dust on the ground was disturbed by the serpent's passing, but it did not fly into the air. It merely moved aside as the snake carved a path through it with her lithe body. At least, Strongarm assumed this was Lachesis.

She belatedly realized that she couldn't tell one snake from another. At least, not without a frame of reference, and she'd only gotten a good look at Lachesis in her serpent form, the other two were in vehicle form when she'd seen them.

"Freeze! Don't move another inch!" Strongarm commanded, leveling her weapon at the snake.

If a creature with immobile facial features could grin, that's what was happening as the serpent paused in her advance, then slowly lifted her head from the dirt, her 'hood' fanning out behind her.

"I will shoot you!" Strongarm warned.

With a guttural sounding hiss-rattle, the serpent replied, speaking the basic speech Strongarm now regretted never having learned. But Fixit knew it. He'd had a lot of time to learn seemingly trivial things.

"She says she didn't come for you," Fixit said.

With a sharp hiss, the snake darted her head to the side, glowing eyes settling on Fixit, who moved farther behind Strongarm with another squeak. She spoke in her uneven burring tongue, and Fixit cringed against Strongarm's leg.

"What did she say?" Strongarm demanded.

"She... uh... she's..." a gulping noise, then a thin gurgle, "She's _hungry_."

"So?"

The serpent buzzed, then her voice became sickly sweet and abruptly understandable.

"Minicons are _prey_."

Strongarm wasn't sure whether to be more stunned by the statement or the fact that the serpent could fluidly change her language and yet had up to this point insisted on speaking in some tongue Strongarm couldn't understand. Either way, it changed nothing.

"Well you can't eat him. We need him," the serpent twitched, and Strongarm decided to make it very clear and very simple, "Move again and I put a shot through your head."

The serpent held still, but there was a disconcertingly serene look in her eyes.

"I am but the least of your problems, dear child," she said in her honey saturated voice.

Strongarm narrowed her eyes, about to tell the snake that she wasn't a child, when she abruptly heard the sound of metal stroking against metal behind her. Her body seized as she tried to both turn and keep her eye on the serpent she had in her sights. Fixit resolved it for her.

"There's another one behind you!"

 _Where are the sentries!?_ Strongarm found herself thinking.

The serpents should be setting off the sentry system. Except... the system could tell the difference between an Autobot and a Decepticon. These were not Decepticons. While they were also not Autobots, the system wasn't recognizing them as a threat. Or maybe it wasn't recognizing them at all.

Some vague notion formed in her mind about that, but it didn't have time to solidify as the serpent behind her abruptly launched itself at her. She swung her weapon towards it and fired. The thing seemed to swim through the air, dodging. Or maybe she had missed. Could she have missed?

The first serpent hit her in the back and she staggered under the unbalanced weight. She reached back and tried to grab the snake to pull it off, but her hands found no hold. The serpent's armor was slick, and it was too big around for her to just grab it. The snake slithered around toward her front and Strongarm stumbled back, putting an arm up instinctively to protect her spark and face.

Something tightened around her legs and she fell. In a detached kind of way, she observed Fixit yanking futilely on the tail of one serpent. To her surprise, the snake hissed and turned towards him, partially pinned by Strongarm's body. Jaws snapped at air, unable to reach Fixit.

It would have been funny, if she hadn't felt her armor creaking under the serpent's body as it strained across her to snap at Fixit. It was strong enough to crack her.

She managed to free her weapon hand and get a shot off. She grazed the serpent around her legs and it shrieked, sliding off. That gave her freedom to roll over and get back to her feet. The distracted snake wasn't too hard to pry off and throw aside after that.

"Fixit, where is the Lieutenant?" Strongarm whispered, backing away from the snakes as they screeched and writhed, struggling to turn themselves over.

Surely Bumblebee must have heard all this. But -if he had- he gave no sign of it.

One of the serpents righted itself and raised its head, parting its jaws. Strongarm flinched, but the snake never got the chance to fire. Grimlock, roused by the noise, lunged out and trampled the snake's head beneath a clawed foot. He roared, partially in fury but mostly bewilderment. The snake flailed its body beneath him, the tail sliding up his leg and starting to coil about him. The snake wasn't dead. Yet.

Grimlock leaned down and snapped his jaws around the body of the snake, his teeth sinking through its armor. The snake screamed as the dinobot began to tug at its body while still pinning its head.

Strongarm took a shaky shot at the remaining snake, who whipped out of her way and scurried into the cover of shadows and leaning junk piles. The motion distracted Grim, who left off his attack and charged after the fleeing snake. Strongarm didn't even try to call him back.

She looked at the snake left behind. It was the smaller one that had come from behind. Its body was now unnaturally crooked just below its head, and energon burbled out of the rip Grimlock had torn in its side. The serpent's body twitched and spasmed, but it seemed not to be controlling the movements.

No, not it. _He_.

Strange as the snake looked, he was still Cybertronian, and the look in his eyes was that of real fear, and real pain. The snake, Strongarm realized, was dying. His body thrashed uncontrollably and a low whine issued from his throat as the blue glow of spilled energon faded and was ground into the chalky ground. The snake was harmless now. More than that, there was nothing Strongarm could do but watch.

Fixit yelped and sprang back as the tail struck near him, but then he just stood and watched. Maybe he'd never seen death throes either. Strongarm knew she would never forget this. This thing had just been trying to kill her... but he was still alive... now... dying.

A single blaster shot startled her and she jumped. Whirling, bringing her weapon up, she was relieved to see Bumblebee. Turning back, she saw he'd put a shot into the snake's head, and now it lay still.

"Where have you been?" Fixit squeaked, "That _thing_ almost ate us!"

"Yeah and he wasn't alone, either," Bumblebee replied coolly.

Strongarm noticed there were two streaks of paint missing across the left side of his chest plate. Some serpent had tried to bite him and raked its teeth across his armor instead. Of course there were more than two. Hadn't there been three to start? The third one must have gone after Bumblebee.

"How are Denny and Russell?" Fixit asked quietly.

"Safe for now, but you better go and stay with them," Bumblebee said, "They'll need somebody to protect them if the snakes get past us."

"Snake," Strongarm corrected.

"What?"

"There's only one left. Assuming you killed the one that attacked you," she felt like her voice was going to break at the word _killed_.

"There were three, actually. Two of them got away," Bumblebee told her.

 _Five?_ There were _five_? _More_ than five?

Strongarm shook her head, realizing there was a more important question.

"How did you take on three of them?" she asked, "I could barely have handled one."

"I didn't. The other two didn't participate. They just watched, then slithered away."

There was something wrong with that. Really wrong. But Strongarm realized there was no time to speculate about the intentions of serpents. They needed to find Grimlock before he got himself in big trouble. There wasn't just one snake out there in the junkyard. There were _three_.

They both glanced at Sideswipe, but he hadn't moved and remained oblivious of the world.

"I don't think we should leave him," Strongarm said.

"Then stay here," Bumblebee replied.

Strongarm hesitated. She didn't like the idea of splitting up, but she wasn't sure if she disliked the idea of leaving Sideswipe unprotected more. She decided maybe the serpents had no reason to come back here, especially as long as Sideswipe stayed still and quiet.

"No, I'm coming too. I don't think we should split up right now," Strongarm determined aloud.

Bumblebee said nothing, but he did look moderately approving. Strongarm wondered if he was testing her. This seemed like a lousy time to be doing that. On the other hand, that was exactly in his job description. It might seem sometimes like he forgot his original assigned task with her was on the job training, but he never really did. Everything that happened was a learning opportunity.

Strongarm let him take the lead through the junkyard. He moved with a kind of cautious efficiency. It looked almost like a slow motion dance routine, yet it moved them through the junkyard with surprising speed and thoroughness, every action was calculated for the most cover and best field of vision. Strongarm knew standard search procedure, but she'd never seen anyone so smooth and totally at ease with it. Most bots would get nervous they'd missed a spot or were moving too fast, or get impatient and make mistakes. At the very least, they would haltingly look to the left or right, or take a corner or whatever, each motion distinct and separate from the last. Bumblebee made each move flow smoothly into the next, and consequently he seemed to melt into the darkness, moving like the shadows he was using for cover, rendering him virtually invisible.

He'd been to Earth before, Strongarm reminded herself. Night like this was familiar to him.

She was so absorbed in her mental note taking that it didn't occur to her for almost a minute that they had heard no further sound from Grimlock since he stormed after the serpent.

Shouldn't he be roaring or crashing around or something? Where had he gone?

Just as she was about to give voice to the uneasy thought, Bumblebee held up his hand to stop her. She tensed, knowing he'd seen or heard something. She strained to listen, but heard only the low whooshing of a night breeze, the steady creak of unstable metal towers shifting in the wind, the soft rustle of small earth creatures shuffling about in the piles of garbage. Mice and roaches made the most noise, but lizards and snakes (real, nonthreatening earth snakes) were also common. She hadn't noticed these minor noises when she first arrived, they were all so small. But she'd been learning that they all meant something.

She realized what they meant now almost too late. Everything was scurrying towards where she and Bumblebee were and away from the next aisle. As she realized this, a crash above her head signaled that a pile of slightly flattened automobiles had been hit from the opposite side. She looked up in time to see them wobble and then begin to fall.

There was nowhere for her to go.


	10. Chapter 10

"Get down!" Bumblebee's shoulder slammed hard into Strongarm's side and she went down.

She was stronger than he was, but it made no difference the way he struck against her, knocking her off balance. She fell and instinctively rolled so her shoulders took the brunt of the falling debris, her hands tucked to her body, a thin protection for her face but ideally not to be hit at all. Hands were difficult to repair if they became damaged, and there was almost no way to replace them.

It seemed like the junked out frames of Earth cars would continue falling forever. Strongarm felt their heavy weight against her, pressing her into the ground. Jagged metal bits cut against her armor, and she knew that she'd have a few dents that would need fixing after this. Irrationally, she hoped her paint wouldn't be scratched up too badly. It seemed an idiotic thought to spring to mind when she was at risk of greater damage than that, merely from the sheer volume of cars falling on her. It was too much weight, and she might be crushed under it all. Surely if she'd been standing when the first debris hit, her joints would have taken severe damage from the unwonted weight placed unexpectedly upon them.

It seemed to take forever, but it was really only a few seconds later that the last of the cars fell.

Strongarm groaned as she pushed herself off the ground, sending rubble rolling off her back in a noisy cascade. She pried herself out from under the debris and looked around. Almost at once, she spotted the serpent Grimlock had thrown into the vehicle tower, unwittingly causing the avalanche of broken machinery to fall on Strongarm and Bumblebee.

Bumblebee!

Strongarm picked up the nearest vehicle, expecting to find Bumblebee had been buried right beside her. She didn't see him, but started to dig around, looking frantically for any sign of him. She didn't get far, freezing at the energon chilling hissing sound behind her.

The serpent had only been stunned. With a twist of its body, the snake righted itself and hissed angrily. It spotted Strongarm right away and lifted the front of its body, flaring out its hood. Strongarm felt for her weapon, but she'd lost it, probably under the debris.

In the distance, a savage roar split the night. Grimlock had already run off to another part of the junkyard, doubtless pursuing other serpents and wholly unaware of the destruction he was leaving in his wake. No weapon. No backup. Strongarm felt a cold dread sinking into her as the serpent glared across the junk pile at her, coal colored eyes turned to shimmering emeralds in the moonlight.

Slowly, the snake parted its jaws, and Strongarm got a good look at the firing mechanism at the back of its throat. It didn't even have to get close enough to bite or crush her. It only had to shoot her, and she would be paralyzed almost instantly. It would take hours to recover from that. And the serpent sure wasn't about to give her that much time. There was murder in those unnaturally bright eyes.

Strongarm realized she was still holding the frame for a car that had probably once been a sedan, but was now crushed beyond all recognition. She remembered something Bumblebee had said over and over. Sometimes you have to be creative.

Her fingers tightened on the frame until the metal groaned in complaint. As the snake drew back its head, she lifted the frame and threw it as hard as she could. The night lit with the bright fire of the laser, but it struck against the junker, which came crashing down on the serpent a moment later.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" Strongarm snarled.

Fury coursed through her. She was tired of being bested by a bunch of snakes. She was furious that they should attack here, and angry that she was having to do most of the thinking when that should have been someone else's job. She was angry that Grimlock was making a bigger mess of things. She even found it in herself to be angry that Bumblebee had disappeared somewhere. And that she didn't have time to look for him.

Grimlock roared again, and another pile of junk came toppling down across the yard. The car she'd thrown at the nearby snake shifted, and the serpent crawled out from under it, squirming and struggling to free itself while looking snappishly about for the Autobot who'd thrown the car.

On the ground, in the newly visible aisle, there came a second snake, slithering over to see what its companion had found. Its eyes glittered, looking flecked with gold.

Strongarm didn't hesitate, didn't think. She just lifted another junker, took aim and swung. The car flew with accuracy, but this snake was farther away and saw it coming. With a snarl that was more lupine than serpentine, the snake turned and heaved its tail into the air. It hit the vehicle with a deafening crack, and Strongarm's shot was deflected. The car hit the ground to the right of the snake, who now rose to its fullest height, peering over the piles of junk. It spotted Strongarm almost immediately.

She swallowed involuntarily, her rage dissolving into uncertainty.

 _What I wouldn't give to have a weapon implant._

It was a thought which had never struck her before. She'd always felt sort of repulsed by the standard military practice during the Great War of implanting weapons in soldiers. It seemed like a terribly invasive procedure to have a blaster stuck into your arm, and it must have been risky to learn the partial transformation required to bring the weapon to bear before firing. What if you accidentally shot yourself from the inside? A mistake like that could kill you, or at least blow your arm off.

Now, for the first time, she realized why. Why soldiers would submit to it, and why even the Autobot army was on board with such a thing. To lose your weapon was to lose your life. Avoidance of that was worth the risks.

The snake she'd hit earlier suddenly squealed. It threw its head back and thrashed wildly. Strongarm realized it was stuck, either pinned by or caught on some portion of the car she'd hit it with. It went completely ballistic, struggling and whipping its head back and forth, biting futilely at the car.

Its frantic actions distracted the other snake, and Strongarm took her chance. She threw another car, but didn't stop to see if she hit the snake. She just turned and ran. She had to get to Grimlock, get to a weapon, get away from the snakes. She had no chance trying to stand her ground here and now.

What she found, nearly running into him in fact, was Sideswipe.

"Hey, whoa!" Sideswipe grabbed onto her for a moment, until she came to a stop, "What's happening?"

"You just woke up in a bad dream," Strongarm said, pausing to look over her shoulder, "Come on, we need to find weapons and some cover. Can you run?"

"Sure, why?"

"Good, now let's go!"

* * *

Snarls, crashes, roars and howls emanated from the darkened recesses of the junkyard. Denny and Russell were more accustomed to fights being in the open parts of the junkyard, and being able to actually see what was going on. Sometimes even being in the middle of it. Somehow, that was less upsetting than this, because at least then you knew what was going on. Not being able to see led to speculation. What was crashing? Who was winning? What was going on?

Fixit hovered nearby, his gaze flicking nervously from one shadow to another.

"Shouldn't the automated security system be active?" Russell asked eventually.

Fixit twitched, jerked, then looked at him.

"What?"

Russell pointed to the nearest motion sensor. It should have had a red light on it, but was totally dark. Fixit stared for a long, uncomprehending second, then flashed into action, rolling speedily across the ground to the control center. He never made it there, because a serpent abruptly slithered from the control room, down its ramp entrance, and stopped him in his tracks.

The snake hissed, but didn't bother speaking. Fixit seemed to turn to jelly just looking at it. He backpedaled so fast he nearly fell over, but the serpent was upon him in an instant, wrapping its coils around him and lifting him right off the ground, up to the level of its raised head.

 _{PREY.}_

The single word rang in Fixit's head and he shuddered, trying to push away the coils wrapped around his mid-section. The serpent leaned its head toward him and... licked him.

"Stop that!" Fixit yelped, trying to hit the snake in the nose, but it drew back its head and laughed.

Something plinked off the snake's armor, a metal wrench. The snake looked down at it, then across at the humans. Russell had thrown the wrench.

"Leave him alone!"

 _{PREY?}_ the inquiry was chilling, and Fixit renewed his struggles.

"Denny, Russell! Run!" Fixit yelled, as the coils tightened and began to warp his plating.

The snake's head lowered, the cruel eyes fixing on Russell.

 _{PREY.}_

The coils loosened, and Fixit fell to the ground with a thud as the black creature rushed past him, more interested now in the humans than him. Fixit shook his head and righted himself, grabbing the serpent's tail. It squealed when it found itself caught, and doubled back along its own length. It opened its mouth to bite, but Fixit let go and spun away, and the deadly fangs missed him.

The serpent started after him, but a blaster shot cut across its path and it stopped, flaring its hood.

"That was a warning," Sideswipe, who had fired the shot, declared, "Leave before I try and hit you for real."

The snake paused, looked at him curiously, then dropped to the ground and slithered out of sight. When it was gone, Sideswipe sighed in relief and slumped against the wall of the diner.

Strongarm came around from the other side, but the snake was gone already.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Sideswipe said.

"What worked?" Fixit asked.

"I was aiming for his head."

"Oh."

They all startled as the laser-like sensor lights came on, followed by bright floods. The automated security system had been reactivated by Denny while the snake was distracted with Fixit. The junkyard was ablaze with light, jagged shadows skittered back as though scalded by it. But nobody was looking at the shadows. They were looking at the snakes.

Draped across leaning towers of junked cars, sliding around the sides of metal and plaster life-size figurines, peering from under protective tarps lashed down with thick cord, winding their silent way around towers of traffic cones and pyramids of old tires, eyes glittering, tongues flicking, slithering over one another as they passed.

A stunned silence gripped the Autobots and humans as they realized the junkyard was full to overflowing with snakes. It wasn't three or five serpents... but dozens, maybe more.

It was Sideswipe who first found his voice and, surprisingly, asked the most relevant question, "Why aren't any of them attacking us?"

The serpents, giant and menacing, were behaving as if neither the Autobots nor the flood lights existed, paying no mind to their sudden exposure and generally acting like they had no greater business than climbing from one perch to another.

Strongarm started to raise her weapon, then lowered it. There wasn't any point. There were so many snakes, if she provoked them they would overwhelm the Autobots with sheer weight of numbers. And she also couldn't bring herself to shoot them because they were not, at present, doing anyone any harm. And, she reasoned, just because some of the snakes viciously attacked them, it didn't necessarily mean _all_ the snakes were evil. After all, Decepticons attacked Earth, but Autobots defended it. However strange these serpents seemed to her, it was as nothing to the awe, shock and fear with which humans regarded Cybertronians such as herself on first meeting.

She couldn't fire without good reason, and these snakes weren't giving her one.

"There's so _many_ of them," Russell remarked quietly.

"What are they all doing here?" Denny wondered.

Neither Strongarm nor any of the other Autobots ventured a guess.

Suddenly a serpent came gliding towards them. Strongarm and Sideswipe both turned their weapons on it, but refrained from shooting it. The serpent slid harmlessly between them, winding its careful way up the ramp and entering the control center. It did not turn off the lights, only the weapons, which had been mostly missing anyway. It chomped the controls with its mouth, crushing the mechanisms in its jaws.

"Hey! Quit that!" Fixit demanded, rushing up to the snake and then stopping short as though uncertain as to what to do with it.

Strongarm went up to support him, taking the snake by the tail and dragging it down the ramp. With a vengeful hiss, it doubled over itself and struck at her. She dropped it and jumped back. The serpent's bite fell short of its mark. She looked around nervously at the other snakes, but they ignored her.

The snake she'd grabbed slithered away from her without a backward glance, sliding under an old billboard and disappearing into the shadows. Strongarm shivered and looked at Sideswipe, who merely shrugged, equally as confused as she was.

In the distance, they heard the screaming roar of Grimlock.

"I guess we should go see what's bugging him?" Sideswipe spoke it like a question, but Strongarm didn't exactly have an answer, so she just shrugged.

"Stay with us," Strongarm said, looking down at the humans and Fixit, "It's not safe here."

"Like we needed you to tell us that," Russell remarked.


	11. Chapter 11

Bumblebee dragged himself out from under the wreckage of the toppled junk car frame tower. The impact had scrambled his systems for an indeterminate period of time. It was clear something had occurred while he was out. Firstly, because Strongarm and the serpents were gone. Secondly, the flood lights were on all over the yard. He didn't see any serpents around; not on, around or under the junked cars, and he certainly knew nothing of the bed of snakes near the control room.

He stood uncertainly for a moment, tense and alert, listening for any sound that could tell him what was going on now, as well as where it was going on. He knew that things weren't under control. If they had been, somebody would have found him and pried him out from under the rubble by now. Strongarm knew for sure where he'd last been seen, and she wouldn't have wasted any time finding him if she could.

He noticed how quiet it was, but that was to be expected. Nocturnal animals were often stunned by bright lights, so the myriad night crawlers were temporarily quiet and still as they tried to figure out what had happened to their world. He knew they might have greater reason for silence, not having forgotten how the animals had fled at the approach of a serpent. But the whole yard was utterly noiseless except for some lonely cricket somewhere chirping to itself.

Looking around again, Bumblebee spotted something. He leaned down and picked it up, dusting it off with his free hand. It was Strongarm's main weapon. Instinctive fear flashed through him. He knew this hadn't been physically attached to her and she could have dropped it any time, but his internal alarm was not satisfied by that knowledge. Even if she lost it, why would she leave before finding it again?

A scream-like roar split apart the silence, shattered it and sent broken fragments scattering. Bumblebee felt the vibration of air against his armor plating, and he turned towards the sound. Grimlock.

For the sake of speed and maneuverability, Bumblebee transformed into vehicle mode, dropping Strongarm's weapon into the back seat. His own he'd already picked up before crawling free of the rubble and it lay in its holster, ignored and forgotten for the moment.

Though Grimlock didn't roar again, it wasn't hard to follow his progress across the yard, because he'd left a clear trail of destruction in his wake. That didn't bode particularly well. Clumsy as he might be, as easily capable of violence as he was, Grimlock was still usually more careful than this. Either the fighting had been truly desperate, or Grimlock wasn't fully in possession of his faculties. Just now, Bumblebee couldn't determine which of those would be worse.

He had no desire to go a second round with Grimlock. But he also wasn't exactly eager to enter into a fight with something that could cause this much damage and still be up and fighting Grimlock. Bumblebee had tremendous respect for power. And this... this was a lot of power.

He wasn't afraid though. The electricity thrumming along his nerves told him he should be, and probably would be after the fact (assuming he survived). But he knew the secret to not being afraid. There were a lot of pieces to not being afraid, but the biggest one was knowing how to prioritize. Do what had to be done first, and then have doubts and feelings about it. One thing at a time.

As he closed in on where he'd last heard Grimlock, Bumblebee suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. Tilting his side mirror upward on instinct, he spotted a snake keeping pace with him. It was climbing on top of the junk in the yard, a length of living darkness against the starless night sky.

Bumblebee's engine chugged, as he started, torn for a split second between stopping to fight the snake and continuing on to find Grimlock. It was evident in an instant that the serpent had no intention of attacking. That could mean only one thing: ahead lay a trap. This was obviously a subordinate snake, a larger and meaner serpent doubtless wanted to do the killing itself. Herself.

It would be Lachesis. It had to be.

But she alone could not possess the power to rain down this much destruction on the yard. She could disable Grimlock with one shot, but she couldn't possibly hold her own against him otherwise.

"Lieutenant!"

Bumblebee tilted his mirror to see Strongarm and Sideswipe heading towards him, the aisle they'd been traveling down was merging with his. He stopped, keeping an eye on the snake that had been following him. If it was going to try and pounce on him itself, he wanted to see it coming.

"There are snakes everywhere!" Sideswipe announced as he and Strongarm came up to Bumblebee.

"I see that," Bumblebee replied dryly, twitching his side mirror.

Strongarm and Sideswipe looked up at the snake, which was patently ignoring them.

"What do we do about them?" Sideswipe persisted.

Bumblebee noted that Sideswipe was shaking slightly, and his optics didn't quite seem focused, and he reminded himself that Sideswipe was in no shape for a pitched battle, and probably shouldn't be exerting himself at all. Not that Bee could do anything about it right now.

"Nothing," he replied after a drawn out moment.

"Nothing?" Sideswipe did well to prevent his voice from rising, though he clearly wanted to yell, "We've got poisonous snakes crawling up the walls and you want to do nothing?"

"Is that what I said?" Bee inquired, his tone gaining a hard edge, "I don't remember saying that."

Sideswipe stiffened, but didn't argue further. He knew exactly what Bumblebee had meant, and refused to pretend that he didn't. If any other stupid remarks had come out of Sideswipe's mouth, Bumblebee would have informed him that _want_ had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

Of course he didn't _want_ to do nothing. But right now, it was a matter of practicality.

They were in a pit of vipers, and it wouldn't do to provoke them. Not right now. And especially not with Denny and Russell tagging along. Yes, he'd noticed the two humans and the minicon too, even though the three were being very quiet and trying to go unnoticed by the big snake overhead.

"If you kick over an Insecticon nest, do you know what they do to you?" Bumblebee inquired.

Sideswipe merely stared at him, and Strongarm didn't supply an answer either. The two of them barely knew what an Insecticon was, even though they'd surely seen more than one in their lives. Certainly they hadn't the faintest idea what a nest of them would be like, or why anyone would kick it over.

"Let's hope you never find out," Bumblebee said, when it was evident nobody was going to say anything.

He shifted gears and started forward once more, but more slowly now, since neither Strongarm nor Sideswipe were in vehicle mode. He also didn't fancy any of them carrying the humans. It would be too hard to ensure they got to safety in the case of an ambush. Better they stayed back with Fixit. Bumblebee decided not to ask why they were out here, instead of back at the control center where it was safe. He also noticed that Strongarm had found a weapon to replace her own, but he said nothing about it. This wasn't the time to find out how they'd gotten to this point. Priorities.

"When did our base become a den of snakes?" Strongarm grumbled, but nobody answered her.

With his usual quiet patience, Bumblebee took the lead and simply expected the others to follow. He didn't criticize their lack of talent for the single file spread that usually marked a unit, the design of the spacing intended to ensure that -if they were attacked- first only one of them would be likely to be hit at a given time, and second they would each have space to drop and return fire without risk of hitting one another. Strongarm and Sideswipe stayed together, and Fixit stayed well behind them, with Denny and Russell clinging to him like he was a life raft. Bumblebee excused this inexperience, mainly because this was neither the time nor the place to address it.

He felt the vibration in the ground through his tires a moment before Grimlock came thundering around the corner. Bumblebee cringed, but the enormous dinobot somehow managed to blast past him, only striking him a glancing blow with the tip of his tail. Bumblebee rocked on his shock absorbers, but was relatively unscathed, considering that he had expected to be trampled.

"Grimlock! Where have you been?" Strongarm demanded when the dinobot had come to a full and complete stop, but Grim merely turned towards the direction from which he had come and growled.

Bumblebee transformed and drew his weapon, wishing -not for the first time- that he still had his old arsenal. It was a lot more difficult to aim when your weapon wasn't literally an extension of yourself. But there was, perhaps thankfully, no time to dwell on that thought. Snakes suddenly came from all directions, from in front and behind, from either side they poured over the junk towers and slipped out from under old crap nobody wanted or needed.

The strident sound of Grimlock's roar overshadowed the hissing, rattling and rustling of the serpents. It was a call to battle, and Bumblebee answered without hesitation, hitting the snake right in front of him between the eyes. He didn't wait to see if it died, changing his aim and firing on another snake. Strongarm and Sideswipe followed his lead, and there was a blaze of light as they all fired in different directions. The serpents did not return fire, but their gaping mouths and extended fangs were an unambiguous signal that they had every intention of biting if they could get hold of anybody.

It was almost immediately evident that the Autobots were to be overwhelmed.

Bumblebee gave the only order he could.

"Sideswipe, protect the humans!" he didn't have to elaborate.

Sideswipe turned and swept them up in his transformation. It was a relatively new trick he'd learned, an old one for Bumblebee. In vehicle mode, Sideswipe couldn't do much to defend himself. Without needing to be prompted, both Strongarm and Grimlock closed around him. Bumblebee stood behind him and fired over Sideswipe's roof. He paid no attention as a snake climbed up his leg and wrapped itself around his waist. The only thing he paid attention to was clearing Sideswipe's path.

The instant he had a place to go, Sideswipe revved his engine and bolted. That was why Bumblebee had chosen him. Strongarm would have hesitated. She was in better physical shape, but she would have been torn between the need to protect the humans and the desire to stand and fight alongside Bumblebee. Sideswipe had no such conflict in his brain. The moment he'd come to Earth, his first instinct had been to protect Russell, even though he didn't know what the boy was. He had no police academy training tying him to his partner, no regulations weighing him down. He might not be the brightest, the best or even the bravest, but Sideswipe was reliable in some ways. And hopefully he was fast enough.

There were several snakes on Bumblebee now, dragging him down, pulling him relentlessly to the ground. He didn't struggle much, but went down quietly, wondering vaguely how it had come to this.

* * *

Sideswipe weaved a little, an unexpected weight in his back seat. It took him a second to realize he'd picked up Fixit along with Russell and Denny. Fixit was lucky he'd wound up in the back seat and not somewhere more unfortunate.

Sideswipe straightened out now he'd accounted for the unbalanced weight, ignoring the rough sound in the general area of his axles. He didn't want to think about what was going on inside him, or the fact that the visual difficulty he was having had gone from a mere inconvenience to an outright hazard.

If he'd known anything about old fashioned Earth film, he would have realized it was like when a movie drops a few frames. His vision would "stick" on a certain visual image, then when he cleared it he'd find the scene had changed in the split second it took. As fast as he was now trying to go, he was having difficulty steering. He was doing it mostly from memory, and prayer.

For almost a minute, that's all he had to worry about. Then Russell started talking.

"We have to go back for them."

 _That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard,_ Sideswipe thought, but he was concentrating too hard on driving to find time to voice it aloud.

"We can't just leave them."

 _The Hell we can't. What do you think we're doing right now?_

"Are you kidding?" Fixit asked from the back seat, "If we went back now, those snakes would swallow us roll- vole- WHOLE!"

 _You, anyway,_ Sideswipe thought.

"Fixit is right; we couldn't do any good back there," Denny said.

 _You mean YOU couldn't._

The conversation never reached a conclusion. One instant the road was clear; the next a snake was lounging in the middle of it, waiting for Sideswipe to drive right into its waiting jaws. Sideswipe braked and turned hard, feeling something pop internally as he swung around the snake's left.

It turned its head and tried to adjust its strike, but succeeded only in smashing Sideswipe's left tail light. The impact of its nose against him made Sideswipe slide a bit, and his right side scraped against a collection of giant metal flamingos. The leg of one caught in his wheel well, and the new weight jerked him off course. It was a painful jolt, and probably unpleasant for the passengers, but it also yanked him off the course the snake expected and on its next attempt to bite him it sunk its teeth into nothing but dirt.

The flamingo tore free and Sideswipe ran over it. He yelped involuntarily when it struck his undercarriage, as much surprised as in pain. Granted, he wasn't well armored under there, but still, a big metal flamingo shouldn't have done any worse than dent, and those didn't particularly hurt.

"Sideswipe! Are you okay?" Russell asked.

 _What do you think?_ Sideswipe grumbled inwardly.

There was a moment of silence, before it dawned on him that Russell expected a response and hadn't gotten one. Then, "Sideswipe?"

He gathered himself and managed to gasp, "Bit busy, Russ."

Even that small distraction caused him to overcompensate on a turn and he scraped against the edge of the open gate to the junkyard. Then they were on the road, and he was deeply grateful this was the middle of nowhere, otherwise he'd have cars to contend with.

Behind him, there came an awful shrieking. In the mirror, he saw the snake. It had chased him to the gate, but now stopped. It was gazing fixedly upwards, screaming in feral rage. Somehow, it didn't seem Cybertronian at all. Sideswipe's engine shuddered, and he was glad to have escaped.

That feeling of gladness made him feel just the slightest bit guilty.

He'd just left behind his friends, the only bots to have ever believed in him, to have given him a chance, to have encouraged him to be better than he was. And he'd left them. Just up and left. Even telling himself he didn't have a choice didn't make him feel better. It didn't change what he'd done.


	12. Chapter 12

The sound was like a gunshot, snapping Russell awake in a flash. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off, but it had been dark when he went to sleep. He could now see gray light out the window. They'd been driving all night, and now it was dawn. Gazing out at the empty fields rolling by, he tried to guess where they were, but nothing looked familiar. How far had Sideswipe taken them?

He suddenly remembered the sound that had woken him and looked around. His dad was still asleep, and Fixit in the back had put himself into a temporary stasis to restore his power. Then Russell looked out the windshield and saw the smoke.

"Sideswipe!" he felt his heart jolt as he realized the billowing smoke was coming from under Sideswipe's hood, and that they were slowing down.

Russell's exclamation roused Denny, who was quicker to notice the smoke.

"Sideswipe, what's happening? Don't tell me your engine overheated," Denny said.

There was a small pause, during which Russell began to wonder if Sideswipe intended to answer.

"I... I don't really know," Sideswipe admitted quietly, "It felt like a power surge."

Russell briefly pondered what a power surge felt like, and decided he had no idea.

Sideswipe had by this time come to a more or less complete halt, and Denny twisted around in his seat to get Fixit's attention.

"What-huh-ah-oh," Fixit's eyes took a second to focus, "What is it, Denny?"

"Sideswipe's smoking," Denny replied matter-of-factly.

"That's bad."

They wasted no time in climbing out. Sideswipe neither transformed nor moved. At Fixit's request, he popped the latch on his hood, but Fixit pulled it up himself. Russell flinched involuntarily.

He was interested in machines and all, but something about seeing the engine compartment of an Autobot felt like an invasion. They were living beings, and their engines were... well... usually covered. He realized he didn't know if Cybertronians had a sense of modesty, but he did know he probably couldn't help with Sideswipe and so he avoided looking under the lifted hood.

Actually, at first, none of them could see because a tidal wave of black smoke made a hurried exit the second it had anywhere to go. Denny coughed and waved his hand in front of his face, but Fixit merely waited for the smoke to clear before pulling himself up high enough that he could see.

Sideswipe was unusually quiet, saying nothing to any of them.

"Well that's not good," Fixit remarked.

"What?" Denny leaned over to see what Fixit was looking at.

"See this circuit here? It's shorted out. That's where the fire started. Sideswipe, you should have told us as soon as you felt any heat. You're a mess, to use the technical term."

"I didn't feel anything," Sideswipe said quietly.

"That's bad."

"How bad?" Denny asked.

Fixit settled back onto his treads with a sigh. He'd done his best to teach Denny about Cybertronians, but there were things which were so obvious to him that he didn't see why they needed explaining.

"What's that thing you humans have? The thing that carries messages from your brain to the rest of you? The thing you say I'm always getting on."

"Nerves? The nervous system?" Denny guessed.

"Yes. That. Well," he pulled himself up again, holding his balance with one arm so he could point with the other, "Most of what you see here is outer casing. Part of the disguise. Sideswipe has an engine, but it's under this," he gestured, "This is just armor plating. But over here, on this side, where the shorted circuit is," he pointed, "this is the Cybertronian equivalent of the nervous system."

Denny stared at Fixit for a long, uncomprehending moment.

"Pretend I'm a mechanic and not a doctor," he suggested.

Fixit sighed, dropping back onto his treads.

"In layman's terms, these circuits are what connects Sideswipe's brain to... well... everything else. Without them, he can't move or feel. It'll take awhile to assess the level of damage, but in short I'd say wherever we go, we're walking from here. And pushing him."

Denny understood now. He nodded, but said nothing, his face grim.

"Where are we going anyway?" Russell asked, glad to be able to steer the conversation in a new direction.

He'd felt phantom twinges of sympathy for Sideswipe. But it also made him extremely uneasy to see someone as powerful as Sideswipe brought to a stop by something seemingly so small. Autobots always seemed so strong, so invulnerable. Knowing that Sideswipe had such vulnerability, that a single spark in the wrong place could be the end of him... it might have been a selfish thought, but it made Russell feel unsafe. His mind ran over all the times his life had been saved by Sideswipe or one of the others. That they could be brought to their knees so easily made him realize fully, for perhaps the first time, just what they risked every time they had to come to his (or anyone's) rescue.

He realized nobody had answered the question.

"Sideswipe? Where are we going?"

For a moment, he thought Sideswipe couldn't answer, and he wondered if maybe those circuits affected his ability to speak. Didn't the nervous system in humans have something to do with that too? Russell had never wished he'd paid more attention in school before. But this had probably been covered somewhere. Right? It was the nervous system, that was important to know about.

Then Sideswipe answered. Sort of.

"I don't know. I don't have a plan. I just figured... if we kept driving... maybe that would be enough... at least until we thought of something better. Strategy isn't my thing," Sideswipe said.

"Weren't you planning on going back to save Bumblebee and Strongarm?" Russell asked.

Sideswipe was silent, but it was clear he felt he'd been rebuked and was somewhat ashamed. Russell couldn't believe he'd abandon them, but... Fixit was the one who guessed.

Fixit didn't say anything, just tipped himself over and crawled under Sideswipe's bumper.

"That's bad," Fixit's voice came muffled.

"Will you _stop_ saying that?" Denny exclaimed, "What's bad?"

Fixit pushed himself out from under Sideswipe and looked at Denny somewhat quizzically, before reorienting himself and answering the question rather than asking one of his own.

"He can't transform. Hasn't been able to since he ran over that flamingo," he sat up and glared at Sideswipe, "Why didn't you _tell_ me? You could have made the damage worse! In fact, you probably did. That figurine probably pulled something loose and that could have caused the-," he stopped suddenly, "That's why you didn't say anything. You wanted to keep going until we were clear."

Sideswipe remained utterly still and said nothing.

"Well, we can't stay here," Denny said when the awkward silence seemed about to snap, "If we stay here, someone is bound to see you, or at least stop and offer assistance. And we don't want Sideswipe towed to a garage," he scanned the horizon, thinking.

"Where can we go? We're in the middle of nowhere," Russell said, trying to look around and realizing that he was shorter than whatever was growing in the fields. Probably corn.

Barbed wire fencing ran along either side of the road as far as the eye could see, a few gravel driveways led to gates and distant houses, but they couldn't approach any of them with Fixit. Or Sideswipe, for that matter. From what Fixit had said, it would only take a mechanic taking a closer look at the tech under Sideswipe's hood to realize he was no ordinary car. In this area alone, the disguise was inadequate and would only survive a cursory or inexperienced look.

Fixit glanced again at Sideswipe's charred and exposed circuits. Reluctantly, he reached up and pulled Sideswipe's hood down. One of Sideswipe's mirrors twitched, but he said nothing. Fixit didn't appear to need him to. He merely nodded, gathered himself and turned towards Denny and Russell.

"You have to leave us," Fixit said, his voice trembling slightly, "We can't protect you anymore, except in this way. If we're being followed, they're after us, not you," he held up his hand before Denny or Russell could protest, "We Cybertronians, particularly of the larger variety, have difficulty telling one human from another. You're so different from us. Get to a city, and they'll never be able to find you, even if I'm wrong and they _are_ looking for you."

"But what are you and Sideswipe gonna do?" Denny inquired, "Where will you go?"

"Somewhere there aren't any people. Where I can have time to make what repairs I can."

"We can't just abandon you," Russell protested, "You may need our help."

Sideswipe spoke up now, his tone unusually serious, "I was charged with protecting you. This is as far as I can take you. Please, take care of yourselves now, because I can't do anymore," he paused, trying to force a lighter note, but unable to succeed, "Bee would kill me if anything happened to you," his voice dropped and he gave up trying for levity, "and... I would never forgive myself," he then said the one thing that would make a difference, "Please. Don't do that to me."

Russell bit his lower lip and looked up at Denny, whose face was clouded by indecision.

"You can't help us right now," Fixit pressed, "We can take care of ourselves. Don't worry."

Denny sighed, his shoulders slumping. Fixit was right; there wasn't anything they could do now. Fixit had tools built in, but Denny had left his behind. He couldn't even assist with the repairs without those. They would only be in the way now.

"Can you push Sideswipe by yourself?" Denny asked, as though hoping he could help with even that.

"I'm not completely useless," Sideswipe bristled, "I can still move a little."

"We'll be fine," Fixit insisted.

Denny nodded and turned to Russell. Reluctantly, they turned to go, leaving the Autobots to face an uncertain future without them there to help. Fixit and Sideswipe were on their own now.

And, even though they hadn't acted like it, they had to know that it was possible that they were now also completely alone. That the serpents may have already killed their friends.

* * *

Strongarm was relieved to see that Sideswipe had taken Fixit with him. She remembered only too clearly that more than one of these hateful creatures had wanted to eat him. Even though she, Bumblebee and Grimlock were very much alive and largely unharmed for the moment, she couldn't help feeling that Fixit might not have been so lucky. Certainly the humans wouldn't have.

It had taken a matter of seconds for the overwhelming number of snakes to pin, disable and disarm the Autobots. Buried under the weight of serpent bodies, Strongarm couldn't see, but when she was allowed up it was clear they had been sweeping the junkyard for weapons. Amidst the tangled coils, she found she'd been dragged to the area just outside the control room, which now contained the weapons that had been taken off of her and the others, as well as the sentry lasers and any other potential weapon the snakes had found on the lot.

Seated on the roof of the building, body curled around itself, lay the largest of the black snakes. Strongarm knew this was a she, and guessed it was Lachesis. She sat impassive as the serpents disentangled themselves from the Autobots and retreated. Some slid under vehicles, tarps and statues, others slithered up on top and perched. Soon, only one remained, a smallish one that had wrapped itself tightly about Grimlock's jaws and head, acting as a living muzzle for the dinobot.

Grimlock staggered to his feet and shook his head, growling unhappily, but was unable to remove the snake. Bumblebee and Strongarm also stood cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the snakes surrounding them.

With their "hoods" tucked to their sides, they looked more like real Earth snakes than ever. Especially Lachesis, in some ways the lines of silver at the front corners of her eyes were what gave her away most, as the glint of metal was unmistakable. Lifting her head, Lachesis opened her mouth and fired a single shot. It hit a spot directly between Strongarm and Bumblebee, creating a blackened spot the size of a quarter in the dirt. She lay her head back on the roof, saying nothing.

It didn't matter. They understood. Strongarm, Grim and Bee knew already the paralytic qualities of the shot, and Lachesis had coiled herself protectively about the control room, where all of the weapons had been deposited. That shot was a warning, or maybe a threat. Perhaps nothing more than a statement.

"We're their prisoners," Strongarm whispered, "But why? What have they got to gain?"

"Whatever they want," Bumblebee replied, his voice equally quiet.

Strongarm felt a prickle of annoyance. This was no time to be cryptic!

But a glance in Bumblebee's direction prevented her from saying anything. His eyes had grown distant, remembering something she had never seen. He wasn't seeing the serpents, or Strongarm, but something else. She'd seen the look before, not when he was seeing Optimus, but when he had recently seen the Prime. When memories were triggered that seemed to leave his grasp on the present a little dimmer than usual. Sideswipe had once suggested brain rust, but Strongarm didn't believe it.

Bumblebee wasn't _that_ old. Or was he? Strongarm realized with a jolt that she didn't know for certain how old Bumblebee actually was. But even if he was technically older than she thought he was, she did know when he'd been killed and brought back. Surely he was basically brand new coming out of that? It couldn't only have been his spark and voice that were restored?

She shook her head. This was no time to be letting her thoughts wander.

She realized Bumblebee had also regained a grip on the present. He didn't say anything, just abruptly transformed into vehicle mode. For a moment she thought they were going to try and run, but Bumblebee just backed himself into a corner and turned out his headlights.

He looked a lot like he was going to sulk. Strongarm hesitated a beat, then joined him.

"What now?" she asked.

"We wait."


	13. Chapter 13

They sat motionless through the night. Strongarm didn't like waiting. Doing nothing was not in her programming, she was built to take action. She'd always thought Bumblebee was too, but now he sat quiet, without moving or showing any kind of impatience.

At first, she thought maybe they were going to try and make a break for it like Sideswipe had, and she watched for signs of laziness, boredom or distraction in their guards, who had surrounded the scrapyard and now hung from its fences like a living top wire. Lachesis lay with her lower jaw resting on one of her coils, her body a picture of relaxation, but her unwavering gaze told a different story.

As the night wore on, it became evident that if they were to escape, it would not be soon.

Grimlock lay nearby with a snake coiled around his jaws and, though he appeared in possession of his faculties, it was evident that he was still working over how to destroy every single one of these things. Escape did not appear to have occurred to him from the way he was looking them over.

Lachesis did not appear to tire of her posting, and the other serpents hardly needed to be wary, for they formed a living prison cell. To breach it, the Autobots would have to get through the snakes, who were bound to notice such an attempt.

One bite, one spit, and it would be all over.

* * *

Fixit had managed to push Sideswipe down the road until they found a back country road. It was badly in need of repair, and every pothole was a trial, every bump an uncertainty. Sometimes Sideswipe could feel and, when he could, those rough patches were agony. When he couldn't, it was worse.

He'd never been so helpless in his entire life. He did what he could to help Fixit, but it was intermittent and marginal at best. Fixit didn't complain. Maybe he couldn't spare the energy. Sideswipe knew that he himself couldn't. He felt battered, beaten and utterly exhausted.

Worse, he'd left Strongarm, Grimlock and Bumblebee behind. Even if it had been for the humans, it still felt like a betrayal. Not that he could have done them any good, he'd been damaged before all this.

They found an unfenced area and left the road. Every jolt across the uneven terrain upset Sideswipe's damaged systems, and he flailed between non-feeling and too much feeling. He managed to say nothing of it, and eventually it stopped. Fixit pushed him one last time, then tipped over with a gasp.

"Well... that... that wasn't so bard-shard- HARD!" Fixit's voice was muffled because he'd fallen face down and hadn't bothered to get up afterward.

Sideswipe didn't feel the need to say anything. There wasn't anything left for him to say. He'd already said it all to get Russell and Denny to leave. He was too tired to even think of a smart remark. All he wanted to do was rest, and he knew that's what Fixit wanted too. But they couldn't. Not yet.

"Come on, time to do the real work," Sideswipe said finally, though he would rather have kicked the minicon in the head than say those words, "Our team needs us."

Fixit moaned and sat up, but didn't do anything else for a moment.

"Why do you suppose they didn't follow us?" Fixit wondered.

Sideswipe hadn't dared question their good fortune. He'd just been glad to see the snakes hadn't followed him beyond the scrapyard. He'd seen them move and, much as it pained him to admit it, right then they'd been faster than he was. All the snakes had to do was take to vehicle mode and chase him. They could have overtaken him easy, and he'd spent half the night wondering when they finally would.

"Why were they attacking us in the first place?" Sideswipe replied, "None of it makes any sense."

"Well, when I wasn't running for my life, I noticed that they seemed more interested in Lt. Bumblebee than the rest of us. And... well... never mind."

"What?" Sideswipe asked.

"He seemed to know them."

* * *

There was so much noise. Bumblebee knew it was only in his head, but he couldn't silence it. If he didn't keep his focus, the phantom image of Pit Viper would show itself beside him, on the other side from Strongarm. The Viper was grinning, and Bumblebee half-wondered if maybe Pit Viper could somehow be every bit as alive as he was, as Optimus Prime was.

He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that death was not always final.

But every time he tried to banish it, The Viper's image dissipated. You couldn't make something real vanish with a thought. Unfortunately, you could make something unreal appear without thinking, and Pit Viper returned again and again, and the noise in Bumblebee's head got louder.

He kept looking up at Lachesis, and seeing Pit Viper reflected in her blackened eyes. The faint ember glow of red seemed to spark all the brighter when he looked directly at her, like somehow she knew even though he never moved. Somehow, she just knew.

His every experience had taught him to escape captivity, that staying here was a death sentence. But that sixth sense had his instincts on fire, telling him to stay and do nothing. What he couldn't grasp was why. Why not try to get away? What was it Lachesis knew that he didn't?

 _{You know better than that, Scout.}_

Bumblebee bristled at the sound of Pit Viper's voice, even though he knew it wasn't real. Pit Viper was dead, and the dead had no business being here, talking to him. There was no benefit in indulging hallucinations, so Bumblebee said nothing. Besides which, he didn't even want to imagine what the others might think if he started talking to nobody. Again.

 _{Oh come now, Scout. You've summoned the Devil from the grave. Now what is it you want from me?}_

The Devil was an Earth concept, one Bumblebee had learned more than a little about in studying Earth's culture. People didn't seem to realize it, but they made passing remarks all the time that made absolutely no sense without the proper context. Through the internet, Bumblebee had sought out the meaning behind so many phrases he'd lost count in order to understand casual conversation, and had thus learned much of Earth history, culture, tradition and religion. It had all been so long ago and so much a part of his life that he sometimes found himself thinking and speaking in Earth slang.

It was little wonder that conjurings from his mind did the same.

 _{I'll tell you why, shall I? You know these are my followers. And you know their truth cannot be found in the records of the_ Alchemor _. You know them to be more complex than the beasts you have fought of late, but you don't have any answers. So you came to me.}_

 _Except you aren't real. If I can't figure this out, then neither can you,_ Bumblebee thought.

 _{Is that so?}_ The Viper purred, having heard him because it was a construct of his mind, _{Then why are you wasting time, Scout? If I cannot help you, why not send me away?}_

Bumblebee shuddered internally, and did just that. The Viper vanished, but was back a second later.

 _{A warning, Scout. A part of you knows the truth. Listen to yourself, Scout. Or have you forgotten how?}_

As the Viper faded out, Bumblebee cast a glance at the sky and saw it was time. The sky was shifting to deep but pale gray, turning everything beneath it to hazily outlined shades of the same. It was exactly what Bumblebee had been waiting for, that time between night and day where everything seems to meld together. For a breath in time, the world is encased in gray, outlines are softened, edges shadowed away until the world is just a mass of indistinct shapes. The twilight before sunrise. Dawn.

Cybertronians could see better in the darkness than humans, but even they had their limits. This level and type of light was almost unheard of on Cybertron, and they were not built for it. Bumblebee knew the serpents were now practically blind, as was he. But he didn't need to see, because his target hadn't moved an inch in hours.

Bumblebee said nothing, merely twitched the side mirror facing Strongarm. They were close enough together that he hoped she would notice it, and be ready. The plan was relatively simple. Lachesis was the leader of this bunch. Kill her, and the nest would dissolve into chaos. Hopefully.

He felt the barest twinge of hesitation. He had to transform to shoot, meaning he had to put space between himself and Strongarm. He couldn't afford to start his engine, the noise would attract notice. Meaning he had to begin a transformation and roll out as he did so. Easy enough, when he could see. But with what he was seeing uncertain, he had to trust his memory, and hope nothing moved.

The transformation and roll went without a hitch. As he transformed, Bumblebee caught up the weapon Strongarm had dropped earlier, when the scrapped cars had fallen on them and they'd been separated. The serpents had missed it, because when he transformed, Bumblebee hadn't placed it in a holster as his was already occupied by his own weapon. He'd had to assume vehicle mode to shift the weapon's location and give himself access to it. Now he transferred it easily to his hand, took aim at where he knew Lachesis to be and –- froze.

 _NO!_

White static crackled in his vision, even as he made out the form of Lachesis, her head raised and hood flared. She glared at him, her eyes glowing like twin fires, but she did nothing. She knew. Knew he couldn't shoot her. His arm was raised, his aim true, but he couldn't squeeze the trigger. He began to shake as he realized the truth that had evaded him until now. Lachesis hadn't just paralyzed him when she shot him. She'd done something else. Something that was different from the poisoning Sideswipe and Grimlock had suffered. It wasn't chewing up his core programming, but dancing across it, toying with him and now preventing him from executing Lachesis.

He felt it as the shaking got worse. How far did it go? Was it only a block, preventing him from killing her? Or was this merely a first stage? He knew now why he'd been experiencing strange feelings and thoughts. Lachesis was doing something to his mind. But was it direct, was she somehow controlling him? Or was it merely that whatever she'd hit him with was overriding his functions? Which was worse? Did it really matter? He realized he was still pointing the gun at her, still not firing.

"Lieutenant!" Strongarm had transformed and had probably been shouting at him for a few seconds now, "Shoot her! What are you waiting for?"

He tried to focus on Strongarm, to listen to her and not what was going on in his head, the voice ordering him to stop, his own mind screaming at him to shoot. Listen to something else, ignore both the voices and thereby free himself. It almost – almost, worked. He felt his finger tighten on the trigger, and saw the pleased look in Lachesis' eyes falter. Then he dropped the gun and collapsed to his knees.

"I... can't," he whispered so quietly he didn't know if Strongarm even heard him.

Strongarm fell silent, and he thought it was over. He'd lost his chance. It was over now.

He couldn't even look at Strongarm, but he imagined she was appalled, horrified, confused, angry. Then she snarled and he sensed her rushing in his direction. She dove for the discarded weapon, fell into a kneeling firing position, took aim and fired. Three shots fired in rapid succession.

Lachesis shrieked, but Bumblebee watched in a state of detachment as she did not tumble from the roof, but instead slid off it and writhed out of the line of fire. Then Strongarm whirled towards Grimlock. She hesitated, unsure of her marksmanship. Then evidently she decided it didn't really matter, they were dead if she didn't. She shot the snake binding Grimlock's jaws and it fell to the ground.

Grim's head darted down and caught the middle section of the snake. The jaws shut mercilessly, the sound of metal being crushed split the air, then Grimlock threw the limp body upwards. Serpents on the piles of junk hissed and rattled, dodging the falling body of their comrade.

Strongarm looked at Bumblebee, who hadn't moved. She seemed to realize he was in no shape for this.

"Move!" she ordered, trying to haul him to his feet when he didn't respond.

Bumblebee shook himself and pulled free, staggered a step and then transformed into vehicle mode. His headlights flashed brightly, cutting a swath of color into the gray. Snakes caught in the beam hissed and drew back, Strongarm shot at any that were too slow, while Grimlock charged their retreating forms.

 _{Listen for the truth, Scout.}_

Bumblebee shook the voice out of his head. He had no time for this. They had to get out.

He gunned his engine and shot forward, Grimlock and Strongarm following, biting and shooting snakes respectively. Bumblebee's spark thundered in his ears, and he felt an overwhelming fear. He hit the brakes and stopped where he was, but Strongarm was urging him on towards the open gate.

"Go on, we're right behind you!" she shouted.

"Something isn't right," Bumblebee protested.

"Grim!" Strongarm didn't elaborate. She didn't have to.

Grimlock picked Bumblebee up in his jaws and bolted for the gate. Bumblebee didn't struggle. He barely even noticed. The noise in his head was so loud, the sparks of white so bright. He couldn't think, couldn't see, but for Pit Viper's hissed warning.

 _{You'll kill them all, Scout. You'll kill them all.}_


	14. Chapter 14

They'd had to run on foot into the woods, because Bumblebee wouldn't -or perhaps couldn't- move on his own. Strongarm was getting worried about him. He hadn't said anything in an hour. But more than that, his last words were cause for concern. _Something isn't right._

It was beginning to worry her that they'd gotten away so easily. Even with Lachesis wounded, shouldn't the other serpents have been able to shoot them, bite them, something? Where was the swiftness, the coordination, the unhesitating viciousness that had brought down Grimlock, Sideswipe and Bumblebee? Where had the power of the three gone now that there were many? It didn't make sense.

Strongarm glanced over at Grimlock, and realized with a start that he was limping pretty badly.

"Let's stop here, Grim," Strongarm said.

Grim looked immeasurably grateful to stop. He leaned down and set Bumblebee on the ground as gently as he could. Bumblebee said nothing, showed no reaction at all.

Strongarm didn't ask Grim what was wrong, but instead went to the leg he was favoring and examined it. Grim didn't protest, shifting his weight more fully to his good leg so she could see more. It was the right knee, where one of Lachesis' fangs had broken off. The obstruction had been removed, but even though Strongarm was no medic, she could see that the metal in the joint had been warped and bent. Grimlock himself had likely caused the damage in attempting to force his leg to straighten.

She realized he'd turned his head to look at her, and she tried to smile weakly.

"Nothing Fixit can't repair," she said hopefully.

"Fixit ain't here," Grim reminded her, then he swung his head towards Bumblebee, "What about him?"

Strongarm straightened and went over to Bumblebee.

"Lieutenant?"

"What?" she was surprised by the quick response.

She'd almost expected no response at all.

"Are you alright?" it was an idiotic question, and she regretted it immediately.

"Alright?" he laughed humorlessly, "I froze. I couldn't shoot Lachesis when she was right in front of me. I couldn't do it. And I couldn't think my way free. Do you get what that means?"

Strongarm wasn't sure she did, but she did know she didn't care for the slightly hysterical tone of Bumblebee's voice. He made a burring noise when she didn't answer.

"Of course you don't," his voice lowered, and he sounded almost angry, "You don't know what it's like to have someone else in your head. I do. I know _exactly_ what it's like," his voice cracked.

"Lieutenant, I don't know what you're-" Bumblebee interrupted her.

"She's in my _head_ , Strongarm. She's taking over."

He was so matter-of-fact about it that it took her a moment to absorb what he was trying to say. It shook her somewhere inside, but she couldn't entirely believe it, and didn't want to understand what he was telling her.

"But that's-"

"Impossible? No. It's not," he sighed wearily, "I only wish it was."

There was something he hadn't told her. Something his voice said he didn't want to tell her now. She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but she got this sense, like he really just... didn't want to talk about it. She always wanted to know things, and hated it when she discovered that she lacked information. But this was Bumblebee, her lieutenant. Since when had he ever withheld things from her that she needed to know?

It had torn him apart him to tell her about Pit Viper, she could hear it in his voice. Worse was for him to admit that he wasn't able to handle all of this himself. And it had killed him to tell her that he couldn't shoot Lachesis. But he had said all of those things, answered her every question. Was it fair to ask this of him, when it was something he wanted to speak of even less than anything else?

She closed her mouth, and didn't ask. If she needed to know, he would tell her. He always had.

"How do we get her out?" Grimlock, who hadn't had a great deal to say in the past day, asked.

That was Grim, always straight to the point, seeing things simply.

"First we'd have to know how she got in. Right, Lieutenant?" Strongarm asked.

"That doesn't matter right now," Bumblebee said, his voice cold, "What matters is that I'm a threat, and you already have Lachesis and her vipers to deal with. You don't need me weighing you down... or finding out what you intend to do about the snake infestation."

"You don't mean that," Strongarm protested, "So you can't shoot them. So what? It's not as bad as all that. It's not like you turned on us or tried to stop us from getting away, right?"

Bumblebee was quiet, in that specific way he was when he expected her to figure something out. But she didn't know what he expected her to figure out. She had no intention of abandoning him or whatever it was he thought ought to be done with him. Finally he sighed.

"I could shoot them last night, remember? Strongarm, this isn't where it stops. I can feel it. Something is happening in my head, and... it's only going to get worse. I'm a liability. Worse, I may become a threat," he didn't say it with words, but his voice added, _Can't you understand that?_

"You're not, and you won't be," Strongarm said, though she was annoyed to find her voice lacking the conviction she needed to convince herself, much less Bumblebee.

"I am, and I will be. Strongarm," she had turned away, but turned back when he spoke her name, "I have no intention of dying or being killed. But I am a threat to the Autobots right now. I also cannot let harm come to you or anyone else because of myself. So don't ask that I do that."

"What do you suggest? That we just abandon you?"

"No, I suggest you disable me, and come back for me at a better time."

"Disable? What do you mean 'disable'?" Grimlock asked, wincing as he shifted his weight.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Bumblebee replied, "Obviously, I'd rather be locked in stasis, but we don't have that luxury, and you can't be sure I'll stay out of trouble if you just leave me."

There was a subtle 'click', and Strongarm saw that Bumblebee had popped the latch on his hood.

"We can't do that to you. What if the snakes come here? What if they find you?" Strongarm argued.

"What if I turn on you when you least expect it and kill you all?" Bumblebee returned, his voice level; too level, like he was trying to force it not to shake, "You know I can."

Strongarm wanted to find another point to argue. But she couldn't think of anything. If he really was compromised, Bumblebee was more dangerous even than Grimlock. Grimlock had sheer destructive power, but Bumblebee was a Warrior. He had fought Megatron – and he had won. She remembered the coldness with which he had dispatched the mauled serpent. That same coldness turned on the Autobots would get them all killed. They would hesitate to kill; if Bumblebee decided they were the enemy, he would not. _Single shot to the spark_ , that's what he'd said.

She felt a chill at her core, but it took her a few seconds to realize that she was experiencing fear. Fear of what Bumblebee could become, what Lachesis was turning him into.

"Okay... okay," she said, but didn't move, "How?"

"It's not hard. I'll walk you through it," Bumblebee said, his voice unusually gentle.

As she began following his directions, Strongarm found herself wondering why Bumblebee knew that pulling certain wires was bad, others would only sever the mind-body connection. Why he knew biological systems from technological as he did. He was neither medic nor mechanic. She bit her tongue and didn't ask, and was grateful she hadn't when the answer came to her.

Bumblebee had been a soldier. He knew how to kill with his bare hands. But he also knew how to take prisoners. The Autobots had on more than one occasion captured Decepticons and questioned them, with varying but always limited results. By today's standards, some of their methods had been barbaric, but even the most skilled interrogators didn't have the level of cruelty that the average Decepticon did.

Grimlock peered over Strongarm's shoulder, nervousness coming off him in waves even though he wasn't involved. Her normally steady hands slipped more than once, making Grim flinch, but Bumblebee said nothing about it, so she wasn't sure if it hurt him at all or not. She was scared to death of this kind of thing. Her every instinct rebelled at pulling Bumblebee apart, and especially against leaving him here. But there wasn't another choice, not without access to their equipment. Not without Fixit, who had actual medical training and could probably have undone whatever had been done to Bee if only he'd known about it. But he hadn't even had time to look at Bumblebee, much less fix anything.

Strongarm had been trained in a world of stasis cuffs and minimum force necessary, where the minimum force could be a stern word or two. Bumblebee's world had been a darker one, more vicious than she'd ever imagined. Of course he knew where critical wiring was and how to reach it. Maybe he even knew how to affect a patch job if damage occurred. Strongarm knew first aid, but she realized her definition of "first aid" was as different from Bumblebee's as her definition of "minimum force necessary".

"It isn't how I imagined it," she said, trying to distract herself from the fact that she felt large and clumsy and awkward handling such tiny, fragile, vitally important to life wires.

"What isn't?" Bumblebee inquired, "Splicing wires?"

"War."

She reached the last instruction he'd given and paused, surprised when he didn't say anything. She waited for him to tell her what to do next, and then thought maybe she'd disconnected too much or should go back a step or something-

"It never is," he said quietly, then seemed to jerk himself out of reflection, "That's it, you're done. You and Grim should go," before Strongarm could think of a protest, he added, "I'll be fine, who'd look for me out here? It's a big world, Strongarm, lots of places to hide. Make the best of it."

"I don't want to leave you."

"You don't have a choice."

* * *

"Ow! What are you doing now?" Sideswipe yelped, as a sharp crackle of electrical output input itself in a place where it shouldn't have.

"I am trying-," Fixit paused, his voice muffled as he worked under Sideswipe's engine, "-to put together something that works-" he grunted and Sideswipe felt a tug on something he was quite sure shouldn't have been pulled on "-from the circuits you fried."

"That _I_ fried?!" Sideswipe objected, " _I_ didn't do anything except try to survive and get out of there."

"And that-" Fixit muttered, "-is very likely why you're in the shape you're in bow-meow-cow -NOW!"

"You're welcome," Sideswipe growled irritably.

Fixit fell silent, and Sideswipe was sorry he'd snapped. They were both just tired, scared and facing a future more uncertain than ever. Sideswipe had been wracking his brains, trying to find a way back into the scrapyard, a way to take out all those serpents. But strategy wasn't his thing, and besides what could one Autobot and a minicon hope to accomplish alone against a literal army of snakes?

"There. How does that feel?"

"Well..." Sideswipe said hesitantly, "It _feels_."

"That's something, anyway," Fixit rolled himself out from under Sideswipe, "Try moving."

Hesitantly, Sideswipe got his engine to turn over. He was surprised at the effort it took, but it was doable. He shifted gears and rolled forward a few feet, then reversed. It was hard. But he could do it. Then he attempted to initiate transformation. His system balked, hiccuped and then... nothing.

"Hmm..." Fixit said, "Alright, cut the engine and I'll see if I can do anything else."

"And if you can't?" Sideswipe asked, obediently cutting his engine.

Fixit slid back under, grunted, rolled out, opened Sideswipe's hood and hummed to himself.

"Fixit?" Sideswipe persisted when the minicon failed to answer.

He felt something pulled out, turned, then plugged back in. Fixit made a sound of satisfaction and returned to his spot underneath the engine, where he proceeded to fiddle about in a way that made Sideswipe feel ticklish and uneasy about having him there.

"Fixit?"

The humming stopped, and Fixit slowly slid out from under him. The minicon stared right at his grill, knowing a sensor there could pick him up visually. His face was very serious and grim. Sideswipe felt his hopes fall as he absorbed the answer before Fixit spoke it aloud.

"Then you're just going to have to get used to not being able to transform," Fixit said, "At least, until we can get replacements for some of this and your biological systems have time to heal."

"And," Sideswipe paused, forcing his voice to stop shaking, "that's likely to be just this side of never if we don't get back to the scrapyard. Which is full of not-Decepticon monsters that want us dead."

Fixit hesitated, like he wanted to offer reassurance, but he went for the truth instead.

"Yes."

 _We're going to die._


	15. Chapter 15

Darkness burned in Bumblebee's mind, and he was glad both Strongarm and Grimlock had left before he became unable to stifle the whimpers it was drawing out of him. He could hear the voice in his head that wasn't his own, but it hadn't yet clarified, the words were indistinct; with only the venom behind them clear. He knew it was the serpent's voice, and it would come clear given time. It was taking over, he knew that now, and that gave him a measure of peace where there had been frightened uncertainty before. He knew what came next. Bit by bit, that other mind would begin to take over. Firstly by making him do things, or stopping him. Little things, dropping something, crushing a held object, preventing him from pulling a trigger. But it would expand, it would grow its power, and then it would have him body and mind. It would matter how loud he screamed, nobody would be able to hear him.

But he knew something else too. There was nothing to gain from controlling him, because there was now nothing to control. He hated it when bots looked under his hood, and his every instinct had railed against the notion of telling Strongarm which wires to pull and cross to make good and sure he could not do so much as turn over his own engine. Mortal terror had been gripping him, his survival instinct almost overpowering his desire to protect his team. But that was gone now. It was done, he was helpless as he was harmless. And, soon enough, the voice whispering to him would know it too.

He still wondered how Lachesis had done it, and especially how she still appeared to be in her own body while she was inhabiting his. Perhaps what he felt now was nothing more than a programmed virus, simulating Lachesis as it took over and ate away at him. But this didn't feel like anything less than a full-scale body invasion, as Megatron's mind had. Perhaps tinged with less pure evil, less sheer willpower and viciousness. But perhaps not, he wasn't sure how to measure.

Fortunately, that wasn't really very high on his list of priorities. He didn't need to know how or even why. All he needed to know was how to take measures to ensure that his body would never be used against him or anyone he cared about ever again. Megatron had taken control of him once, and that was quite enough for a lifetime – no matter how long one lived.

It was the memory of being possessed by Megatron, how that had felt, that more than anything had prevented him from balking or hesitating at having himself disabled. He'd had to scramble to think of a reason more viable than "I don't want to be controlled". One that Strongarm would accept. He couldn't have convinced her with only the powerful sense of loathing and sheer horror he experienced at the very notion of living through that nightmare a second time. Horror so strong he'd almost missed the very real threat to others it represented. "No, no, no, no!" was hardly a convincing argument, but it had been all he could think the entire time from the moment he'd found he couldn't shoot Lachesis to the second Grimlock set him back on the ground.

 _{Hello, Scout.}_

He slid his attention to the apparition, Pit Viper parked right next to him, the ghoulish grin permanently plastered across his hood and grill, sunrise light glinting off his bright green paint and being swallowed by infinitely black trim. There was no harm in indulging this hallucination.

It might have been able to save him the agony of finding himself with a weapon and no way he could use it against the biggest current threat to his team. Some part of him had known, and that part of him insisted on manifesting itself as this grotesque mockery of a fallen foe.

 _Hello, Viper._

 _{Oh, now you're ready to talk. Seems you might have done well to do that earlier, yes?}_

 _What do you want?_

 _{Me? I don't want anything. I don't exist. Or have you forgotten?}_

 _Why are you here, then?_

 _{You called me. Don't you know?}_

Bumblebee sighed wearily. He was annoyed with his subconscious for doing this to him. He didn't need his own mind turning on him right now. That was the last thing he needed. But there was nothing for it, he'd brought this thing here for some reason. He glared at it, and wished it would go away, but not hard enough that it actually did. It would only come back. And he needed to know why it kept doing that.

He needed help, and right now he had only what was in his own head.

 _Tell me._

* * *

"How are we going to find Sideswipe and Fixit?" Grimlock wondered.

They were in throwing distance of a road, but a screen of trees and shrubs ensured that nobody driving there would notice the giant robot and big metal dinosaur strolling through the woods. It concerned Strongarm vaguely that Grimlock hadn't tried transforming. She suspected it had something to do with his mangled knee. It was possible the warped metal prevented transformation. But it was also possible that the lingering effects of the poison he'd been injected with were still futzing with his systems. Or maybe the thought of changing form simply hadn't crossed his slow mind.

"We know what direction they were headed last night," Strongarm said.

Grimlock gave her a questioning look. Well, maybe he didn't know. But she did. She didn't correct herself though, instead moving on to what came next.

"We know Sideswipe's radio is down, and Fixit's must be too, but that's nothing new," Fixit's systems were only reliably unreliable, and that was no secret to anybody, "Chances are, they know it too."

Grimlock continued to stare at her, glancing ahead only long enough to make sure he wasn't about to run into anything, then refocusing on her.

"Sideswipe would have kept going, he would have done something predictable so we could find him," that was a stretch if ever she'd heard one, but it was the only thought she had.

Sideswipe could have done anything, could be anywhere by now. Hell, he could be heading back and mounting a rescue as they spoke, though that seemed unlikely given his condition when she'd last seen him. He was in no shape for a fight, and had to know it. Sideswipe wasn't a coward, strictly speaking. But he wasn't exactly suicidal either. He would not die for them, not when there was no chance of that gaining him or them anything. He wasn't that stupid. Grimlock, maybe. Sideswipe, no way.

"What if... if they still have Denny and Russell with them?" Grim seemed uneasy even asking.

Strongarm started to scoff, then realized the ulterior motive behind the question. Of course! The humans had those phone things. Dreadfully inefficient, but usable. If they were with the bots, she could probably call them, and they could tell her where they were themselves.

"Grim, you're... simple," Strongarm said, reluctant to call him 'brilliant'.

Leave it to Grim to think of the most obvious, and also easiest, solution.

"Uh, thanks. I think."

* * *

"Okay, stop, stop!" when Fixit failed to comply, Sideswipe gunned his engine.

Startled, Fixit tried to sit up, banging his head against an axle before sliding out.

"Are you out of your mind?" Fixit yelped, "You could have gotten us both killed!"

"Yeah right," Sideswipe snapped, though he realized it was probably true, because he had no idea what Fixit had been meddling with in there, "I'm tired of you playing around under me. It's weird and awkward, and sometimes stings a little. Most of all, it's not helping. It's just not. And we both know it."

A shudder rippled through him even as he said it, it was the last thing in the world he wanted. But it was time to admit that Fixit... well... couldn't fix it. Sideswipe was broken, and no amount of fiddling was going to change that. Fixit had done his best, and it wasn't good enough. Sideswipe didn't blame him, but he was scared to death knowing that Fixit's best wasn't enough to fix him.

 _What have I done?_

Sideswipe had done plenty of reckless and foolhardy things, but had never caused this sort of damage to himself. The serpent's venom had played a part in it, and the fight, and them chasing him, but the truth was he hadn't been as careful as he could have been. He'd done what he always did, went as fast as he could and hoped speed would be enough to get him through.

Strongarm had warned him. Hell, _Bumblebee_ had warned him. But he hadn't listened. He never did. And now the reality was sinking in that he was broken by his own mistakes, and his team needed him now more than ever and there was nothing -absolutely nothing- he could do to save them. Not in this state, not in vehicle mode. He had no way of attacking, no way of defending himself. Vehicle mode was a way to go fast, and conceal himself, nothing more.

"Patriotism- pantomime- PESSIMISM! Will get us nowhere," Fixit said.

"Don't you get it?" Sideswipe moaned, "We're both completely useless as fighters right now. Bumblebee, Strongarm and Grimlock are caught, and they're probably all going to die, and we can't do anything to help. You get that, don't you?"

"That's the usual state of affairs," Fixit replied mildly, "There's very rarely anything I can do. I wish I could say you get used to it, but that's a lie," he looked at the ground, "It tears me up every time I think you and the others might die and there I am safe in the scrapyard, doing nothing."

"Ah, Fixit... I didn't mean-" he trailed off, not sure if a lie would be better.

"Yes you did. It's alright," Fixit smiled dutifully and sighed, "I'm used to it."

He rolled away, probably so Sideswipe couldn't see his change of expression. But Sideswipe could guess at it. Fixit had to be every bit as frightened as Sideswipe, and Sideswipe had just added insult to injury by hurting his feelings. This was no time to be picking on Fixit, but any attempt at an apology got stuck in the pipes and Sideswipe found himself saying nothing for too long.

Of all the Autobots to get stuck with, Sideswipe knew he had to be the worst. He wasn't patient, he wasn't sensitive, he wasn't understanding, he wasn't... well, he wasn't _Bumblebee_ , the only bot who could stand listening to Fixit for more than five minutes without going crazy.

Bumblebee. Who had sent Sideswipe out here in the first place. What had he been thinking?

 _He was thinking he couldn't do it himself, and I was the only option. That's what he was thinking._

"Sideswipe, look-look-look-look-" Fixit thumped himself on the chest, but didn't bother finishing his sentence, instead just pointing with his hand.

Sideswipe rolled forward, peering over the crest of the knoll Fixit was standing on. He could see the road beyond. And on it-

"Strongarm! Over here! We're over here!"

* * *

 _{Are you afraid, Scout?}_

Bumblebee didn't even compose a mental response. He was thinking. Why would he keep bringing Pit Viper to the forefront of his mind? The Viper might well have been the leader of the serpents once, but so Megatron had been leader of the Decepticons, and Bumblebee's mind hadn't conjured _him_ up lately.

 _{Come, Scout. Don't tell me you're afraid of your own mind.}_

 _Only its being taken over._

 _{You and I both know the serpents couldn't bring me to surface, not even if they wanted to. I'm saying everything you expect. That wouldn't be true if I was a product of something other than your mind.}_

 _I can't be sure of that._

 _{I tried to warn you, remember? Your mind was warning you, through me.}_

 _You've pretended to be a figment of my imagination before. My inner demons or whatever. Suppose you taught that trick to your friends, and they merely perfected it?_

Pit Viper had never been able to read his thoughts, and could not literally appear out of nowhere. He'd had to make sure Bumblebee's emotions and mind were in chaos before he even approached him to pretend to be a part of his mind. But then again, last Bumblebee had checked, you had to be plugged directly into another bot with a cortical psychic patch to body jump, yet there was still something lurking in his mind's dark corners, tugging at him, testing itself, gaining strength, gathering itself to take over. He couldn't believe that living presence in his mind was just a virus and nothing more.

 _{Then shouldn't I be trying to terrorize you? Telling you how much you enjoy killing? I'm not doing that, am I, Scout? You wouldn't tell yourself that, not like this anyway. Or would you?}_

 _So why are you here?_

 _{I am but a memory, Scout. Why are any memories here?}_

 _To remind us of what we've loved, what we've lost what we've..._

 _{Learned? Clever, Scout,}_ The Viper began to fade from view, like the Cheshire cat from a book a human friend had once told him about, until only its grill remained, and that only until it had finished speaking, _{I believe we'll be speaking again.}_

Bumblebee shuddered slightly, but changed his focus, replaying the memory of being shot by Lachesis. No, not there. He moved on to when she'd come back and been crawling all over him. Frame by frame, despite how repulsive it was. Hoping he was wrong, wishing with all his might that what he'd thought of wasn't true, that she hadn't done what Pit Viper had once. That he was just thinking-... but no. There it was. There. When she'd slid under him. He shivered involuntarily.

He couldn't see it, couldn't feel it, but he knew. She'd planted a tracker on him.

Lachesis was coming for him. And he had no way to run, no way of defending himself.

 _Scrap._


	16. Chapter 16

" _There comes a time when each of us is tested, Strongarm. When we have to put together everything we've learned, everything we know, and everything we believe in and face our fears. You'll know when that time comes. I can't tell you when that time will come for you, or what it will be like, so there's only one piece of advice I can give: Do the best you can. There is nothing more you can do than that and, even if it's not enough, nobody can ask for more."_

Bumblebee had said that once.

Denny and Russell hadn't been with Sideswipe, but they could tell Strongarm which way he and Fixit had been headed. She had driven on the road intentionally, knowing it would be only too easy to miss them. She'd never felt so keenly the absence of Fixit in her comm unit, giving her tracking coordinates.

It felt like a shot in the dark, driving down the road, hoping to be spotted. But, chance or not, Fixit and Sideswipe did see her. She then gave Grimlock directions. He'd been lumbering after her off road, but his progress was neither swift nor straight as he tried to stay totally out of sight.

Strongarm knew something was wrong immediately, seeing that Sideswipe was in vehicle mode even out of sight of the road. Fixit was unusually subdued, and Sideswipe had no smart remark to offer about how long it had taken Strongarm to find them. It was soon evident Sideswipe could see something was wrong as easily as Strongarm, because he asked the obvious.

"Where's Bumblebee?"

She didn't answer immediately, because some part of her still just couldn't believe he'd talked her into leaving him. She avoided looking at Sideswipe, and found herself instead looking at Fixit who tapped his appendages together awkwardly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out what.

"He's not dead," Grimlock supplied when the silence became unbearable.

"But he's also not okay," Strongarm added hurriedly, but couldn't sort her thoughts into a semblance of coherency in order to elaborate on that counter to Grim's relieving statement.

* * *

Lachesis was moderately annoyed at having been shot. The damage was minimal, mostly cosmetic actually. The loathsome blue and white Autobot had hit her only once. But one thing it did make more difficult was slithering. The torn metal at her belly caught on the rough ground, slowing her down. This was irritating primarily because her vehicle mode wasn't meant to cover such unkempt terrain as this.

She could plot an easier route to reach her destination, but Lachesis was determined to cut a straight course for the Autobot. Bumblebee could not be allowed to elude them a second time. She'd been warned about this, but even as she had known of the former Scout's resourcefulness, she had not fully believed he could be as suicidally reckless as all that.

But he had no way of knowing Lachesis and her den wouldn't kill him, that they wanted him alive. At least, not at the time he had drawn a weapon and aimed for her head. She'd seen the recognition in his eyes a beat after, when he realized that he could not harm her. When forces beyond his control or understanding halted him.

How quickly could he put it together?

Lachesis had felt the first prickle of fear when she realized that she had to let the Autobots go, or else participate in a fight to the death. And she would not -could not- risk harming the Scout. Not yet.

It had been her hope that they would remain prisoners until the time came, but she should have known keeping the Scout imprisoned was pure folly. It had been tried before, and everyone who had ever kept him prisoner had later been killed by his own hand. You did not keep a creature like the Scout in a cage.

She had made a critical error, one she could only hope would not prove fatal.

She had forgotten respect. She could hate the Scout all she liked. She could despise him with every fiber of her being, could feel the pulse of hate with each beat of her spark. But she had forgotten that, even in her enmity, she must have respect for what she wanted to destroy.

Intelligent, willful and experienced, Bumblebee could not be treated as if he were a minicon waiting to be eaten. He was something more than that, and Lachesis had overstepped, tried to cage the wild thing before it was brought under control. It had been a foolish move, she knew that now.

But she was given an unexpected second chance. The Scout had remained motionless for some time now, and Lachesis knew beyond doubt that he had found at least some portion of the truth. That now he was left behind, possibly even dead. She had to find out. And she was going to do it alone.

* * *

 _{Have you forgotten, Scout?}_

Bumblebee was feeling increasingly irritated, but he was no longer certain that the feeling was his own. He knew he was no longer alone in his own head, and that this was different from the time Megatron had taken him over. Megatron hadn't had any interest in Bumblebee's mind, not at the time. He had merely needed a body to work with. He had simply and viciously overridden Bumblebee's will, silencing him and shutting him out of his own body, forcing him to become a spectator of his life. But this was different. This... might actually be worse.

Someone or something was slipping through the shadows of his mind, tasting his memory, touching on his thoughts and feelings, leaving a burning sensation everywhere it went. But the aim was not merely to take his body. It was searching his mind, looking for something. Or maybe it merely didn't know what it was doing. Not like Megatron had.

The cortical psychic patch that had made the body jumping possible was primarily Decepticon technology, intended by Megatron to be put to the purpose he eventually used it for. Bumblebee was fortunate that it had not been invented when Megatron had captured him, tortured him, and eventually crushed his voice for refusing to break under interrogation.

He remembered the next time he'd been alone with Megatron, when they had met mind to sick mind... or perhaps soul to dark soul. Megatron had asked him questions, but he hadn't answered. It was like reliving the past all over, the only choice was to say nothing. So long as he said nothing, he could not let any information slip. He could not be confused. Only broken. It was a sacrifice he had knowingly, willingly made, aware every second that he was choosing the safety of the Autobots, the future of the war itself, over himself, his own safety, sanity, his very life. He could have died that day.

He realized here in the present that Pit Viper was still there, waiting for something. He wished the Viper would leave him alone. The Viper was dead, and yet it came back to haunt him. Pit Viper would never been entirely gone, so long as anyone who remembered him lived.

 _{This is not an interrogation, Scout, your silence is not required.}_

 _Who says it's not an interrogation?_

 _{Come, Scout. Don't be foolish. Think for once in your miserable life.}_

 _I don't need this right now. Hell, I don't need this_ _ **ever**_ _._

 _{You obviously don't believe that, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Think, Scout.}_

He remembered the last time the Viper had appeared, when he'd realized that Lachesis had attached a tracking device to him. For some reason, his subconscious mind had taken this entity out of his memory to provide him with information, to help him work through his panic.

Panic.

He had to face facts: he was so appalled and terrified of the fact that someone was once again in his head that he couldn't think straight. If he could have moved, he'd have shaken himself to pieces. There was something inside him, something scratching its way out. He had no power to stop it.

 _{You are but a Scout, you are not trained for this.}_

 _That's not helping!_

 _{It's what you're thinking,}_ the Viper retorted.

 _Don't tell me what I'm thinking! Help me!_

The Viper grinned, then evaporated as a black serpent crashed through the underbrush and slithered through his non-existent grill. Bumblebee recognized the silver face streaks, noticed the gaping hole in her side, and when she opened her jaws to snap her fangs forward, one was missing.

Lachesis.

She hissed, flaring her hood. Bumblebee didn't move. Didn't react. After a moment, Lachesis put her hood down and flicked her tongue like she was sniffing. Annoyed more than distressed. She blew cycled air through her nose in an expression of exasperation. She had never been concerned that Bumblebee would get away from her, only miffed that she'd had to follow him out here.

"I suppose you think yourself very clever," Bumblebee was inexpressibly relieved that she did not revert to the basic speech she had used on their first meeting, "Escaping first, and now in hiding."

"Get away from me," Bumblebee growled.

Lachesis ducked her head and slid forward, as if to taunt him. She sent her flicking tongue questing across the bottoms of the doors on Bumblebee's left side. He wished he could flinch away at her touch, it sent crawlers across his surface and he felt as if he couldn't bear to put up with it.

"How desperate you must be, Scout," Lachesis hissed, "to allow yourself to be disabled."

She ducked her head and slipped under him. He felt her scaled armor caress his undercarriage and inwardly he recoiled, as if imagining himself drawing away could somehow make it happen. Her muzzle brushed against his axle, the forked tongue slipping under the protective armor to touch at the wires behind it.

 _Ugh._

"Are you afraid, Scout?" she paused, seeming to sense the new tension in his being.

She was she, and the Viper was dead, but in that moment she sounded exactly like the Viper. For just the barest second, he seemed to sense that she was gentle, that her question was in earnest. But he tore that from his thoughts, appalled that he could even entertain such a notion.

Her voice carried a smile as she resumed her work.

"You should be," she had no need of him unlatching his hood, her narrow skull could slide into spaces too narrow for anyone else.

He could feel her reconnecting things, and willed her to stop. But of course he had no power to make her do anything. Unable to escape or stop her, unwilling to speak to her, Bumblebee turned his attention once more to the clearing, where Pit Viper was once again sitting and waiting.

 _{You will lose yourself, Scout.}_

 _I will not. I'll fight._

 _{How? How will you fight, Scout? You can't even know what's real!}_

How he hated the Viper. Pit Viper, who had attacked him at spark level. Pit Viper, who had used the one thing Bumblebee loved more than Cybertron, more than the Autobot cause, more even than the family that his team of the time had been to him. A human boy, in defense of whom Bumblebee was willing to commit the most unforgivable act an Autobot was capable of. The boy he had guarded with life and limb, whose being he protected above all else he had ever held dear.

The boy. The boy was real. He had always been real. And it had been his voice alone that had nearly allowed Bumblebee to break even Megatron's hold over his body and mind.

 _{Very good, Scout. You may survive this yet.}_

As Pit Viper faded out, a searing pain lashed across Bumblebee's memories and mind. He screamed, blinded by it, but no sound escaped him. The energon in his veins seemed to burn, then grow suddenly unbearably cold, as though it were turning to frozen sludge. The sound of his spark was loud in his ears; its pulse racing and erratic as it registered the invasion. Something had hold of him at last. And the voice in his head, the one that didn't belong to him, suddenly it rang out deafening and clear, and it was like Death as it echoed through his head:

" _Greetings, Scout. I am Bothrop. You may call me 'Master'."_

* * *

Strongarm realized suddenly how much, how very much, she alone knew. Things Bumblebee had told her, had made sure she understood. The others didn't know about Pit Viper, didn't know what had really happened when Bumblebee had been shot, didn't know he had been unable to get the job done. Except for Grim. He knew a fraction of it, though it was unclear what he'd understood.

Strongarm stood motionless, staring at them each in their turn, as the truth hit her: this team, Bumblebee's team, was now her responsibility. It had been given to her in this time of crisis, to lead and protect and care for. They were relying on her, dependent on her. They _needed_ her.

A crushing weight of fear descended upon her shoulders, and she couldn't imagine how Bumblebee could survive this much pressure all the time. She felt like she was going to be flattened under it, like it would shatter her into a million little pieces that could never be put back together.

All this and she hadn't even tried to think of a plan to take back their base and take down those serpents. At the thought of that, of facing that on top of mere survival of the team, she felt like she was going to pass out. She grit her teeth and fisted her hands, trying to pull herself together.


	17. Chapter 17

Strongarm realized the first order of business had to be getting Sideswipe back in fighting shape. Grimlock, even as he stood, could fight and defend himself well enough, but Strongarm could think of no way that Sideswipe could be expected to hold his own against anything in his current state; except of course by running away from it, but that wouldn't be helpful if they intended to deal with the serpents.

The equipment Fixit needed was at the scrapyard, but so were the snakes. Obviously that route was out of the question. Besides, Strongarm had her doubts about disturbing the nest. Assuming the snakes didn't abandon it just because it was empty of Autobots, at least she knew where they were right now.

Chased from the scrapyard, there was no telling where they would go. Chased or not, there was no telling what they would do. Their motives appeared to be petty revenge, but she couldn't fathom the plan they were following, assuming they weren't just acting randomly.

But no, chaotic and unpredictable as they were, their every action had caused suffering and hysteria. They had broken the Autobot ranks, rattled the team's confidence and cut them off from their best and only resource. Not to mention incapacitating their leader. All that didn't happen by accident, and she couldn't argue that the results had been mere happenstance.

No, the serpents had a plan, and so far it appeared to be on schedule. She couldn't lie to herself and say that they hadn't literally _allowed_ her and the others to escape. Why? She didn't know, couldn't even begin to guess. She could only work with what she knew. And what she knew was that, counting herself, she had only three fighters to face a pit of vipers. And, right now, one of her fighters was a glorified rich kid's toy, capable of speed, mouthing off, and nothing else.

 _Check that,_ she warned and reminded herself, _that 'toy' as you so quaintly just thought of him saved Denny and Russell, got them to safety when you and the others couldn't. Give him a little credit._

Even though she hadn't voiced the previous thought, Strongarm suddenly felt guilty, and wanted to apologize for being unfair. Only she'd never said anything, so it would be a strange thing to apologize for. Instead, she decided to at least try a little sympathy, even though she anticipated regretting it. Nobody had so much pity for Sideswipe as Sideswipe himself, after all.

"Are you... I mean... does it hurt?" Strongarm asked him.

Sideswipe seemed suspicious. He was quiet, and she could feel him looking at her, wondering as to her motives, trying to decide on the best barbed retort no doubt. But then he just sighed.

"Not right now. Fixit took care of that," he sounded like he was harboring a bit of guilt himself, and she wondered if he also hadn't said something he was ashamed of.

"Happy to hear it," Strongarm said, then turned her attention to Fixit, who was busily trying to undo the damage Grimlock had done to himself, "What do you need to fix him?"

"Pliers. But I've got those," Fixit looked up, and realized Strongarm wasn't talking about Grimlock, "Oh. You meant Sideswipe. Of course you did," he nodded to himself, "That's a long list, and you probably don't have the time to hear it."

"Fixit," Strongarm sighed, crossing her arms, "So long as both Sideswipe and Grimlock are incapacitated, I have all the time in the world. I need them in fighting shape. _Both_ of them."

"No amount of wiring in the world is going to make that happen soon," Fixit told her, looking up again, "This isn't about technology. In case you've forgotten," he didn't sound annoyed or impatient, merely tired, "Biologically the both of them are running on reserves. They need time to rest and heal more than anything. Right now, a good stiff breeze could probably knock them over," he looked thoughtfully at Grim, "Well, a small tornado anyway."

 _I can't believe I have time for this,_ Strongarm thought, resting her head against her fingertips.

"Time," Sideswipe said for her, "is something we don't have a lot of."

"But Strongarm said- oh. Oh, I see. Yes, alright, of course. Grimlock, you'll be alright for the moment?"

Grimlock grunted and sort of fell heavily to the ground, one leg folded beside him, the other sticking out awkwardly. He seemed relieved to have an excuse to lie down for awhile.

Strongarm made a note to keep an eye on him. It was possible the task at hand was too much for even the great strength of a dinobot. Certainly Grim looked exhausted and, she realized, as if he were in pain. She hadn't even thought of that until now. Of course he was in pain. She could have kicked herself for not even asking how he was doing, even after their escape. She'd simply pressed on to the next thing, with no thought for Grimlock at all.

Dammit, how did Bumblebee do this?

* * *

Burning. Fire. Darkness. Blood. Screams. Death.

If he could have screamed, Bumblebee would have. Pain shot across him with electrical energy, bubbling and hissing, rattling with unholy life of its own. But it wasn't the agony he felt that would have wrung from him the screams of a dying soul. It was what he could see. Some part of him knew on some level that it wasn't real, but that voice had been silenced by the fact that every memory, every good thing that had ever happened, was being dragged out and poisoned, twisted until it was cold and dark with it. He knew the way that things were being ripped and turned wasn't the truth, that they hadn't really been that way, but he couldn't seem to make it stop. He knew why.

Bothrop. He'd said his name was Bothrop, and his hellish, blood-soaked presence lurked in every tortured thought. Bumblebee didn't know who Bothrop was, what he was, but he knew that this faceless name, this indescribable evil presence in his mind was responsible.

One by one, he drew out Bumblebee's memories of his friends, moments of triumph, instants when everything had been alright, times when the war just seemed far away and like it didn't matter. Bothrop tore it all out, lit everything with black fire, until the faces in the memories screamed in their agony, each of them dying and betrayed. All by Bumblebee himself, because these were his memories.

He didn't remember where he was, had forgotten Lachesis entirely. All he knew was the pain and the darkness and the knowing, knowing that these were not real but unable to make himself stop believing they were real, incapable of turning his eyes away from them because - _dammit_ \- this was his mind.

As Megatron had once existed in a limbo of his own making, fantasizing about killing Optimus every few seconds and triumphing in the Decepticon capital on Cybertron, now Bumblebee was being drawn into a nightmare in which everyone died, where he killed them all over and over, in so many different places and so many different ways, and all of it was tinged with fire and dripping of venom and he knew -he _knew_ \- that Bothrop was doing this and yet he still couldn't make it stop.

He even knew why this was happening.

Once every memory was burned and bloodied and broken, Bothrop would skim over them a second time, trying to convince Bumblebee that -not only was this all real- but he had enjoyed every minute of it. Bothrop would draw him into thinking that he wanted his team dead, and then unleash him to kill them all because Bothrop couldn't do it himself. Even with Bumblebee's memories, he couldn't possibly understand or anticipate what the team would do. Moreover, this was a punishment for Bumblebee, better that he inflict it upon himself. Having finished, he would then be released, allowed to see and believe the truth again. And that -finally- would destroy him.

Bumblebee knew all of this, yet there was still no escape, no way to make it stop. He had no way out. Bothrop was too strong, too good at slipping around the mental barriers he tried to erect. Bothrop had been waiting for this for a very, very long time. And he had no doubt begun his training under the direction of the master of manipulation himself: Pit Viper.

The Viper had needed nothing more than his own words to slide his way into another's trust, to turn them in the direction he wanted them to go. How much stronger would he have been if he'd had the cortical psychic patch to assist him? If he could access directly the minds and wills he wanted to manipulate? Bumblebee felt a twinge of bitter amusement as he realized that Pit Viper would already have been finished. Bothrop sensed his awareness and lashed out in anger, for a moment inflicting more physical pain than mental, striking so hard that Bumblebee's thoughts wavered and shuddered out of existence. Then he regained control of himself, and of Bumblebee.

But even so, the damage had been done. Bumblebee had a way to fight back.

In the back of his mind, away from the memories, the fire, and Bothrop, there lurked the Viper. The one thing in Bee's mind Bothrop wouldn't dare touch. His one defense, his only hope. How ironic that it should be the only Decepticon he'd ever hated as much or maybe even more than Megatron.

Whatever or whoever Bothrop was, he wouldn't see it coming. Not if Bumblebee bided his time, waited for the right moment to strike, to seize control, and get this monster out of his head.

 _You_ can _be hurt,_ Bumblebee thought, _You can be distracted. You can be brought down._

" _Not by you,"_ Bothrop replied coldly, and another memory scorched its way across Bumblebee's soul.

Soon. Not yet. But soon.

He squashed down his own realization that already his mind was turning to darkness, thinking like the vicious savage Bothrop was trying to turn him into. He had to allow it, let it in. That darkness was the only thing that he could use, the only weapon he had. He let it wash over him, watched the memories twist and burn and have their fell effect on his psyche, just let them burn, and did not resist.

* * *

"We need Denny and Russell for this," Strongarm said.

"Are you insane!?" Sideswipe practically shouted, "After all I went through to get them safe!?"

"Calm down, Sideswipe," Strongarm growled, "Try and think rationally for once," Sideswipe fumed, but did not interrupt, "In case you've forgotten, I'll remind you: we are robots in disguise. We can't go around getting the things Fixit needs on our own unless we steal them. And I won't do that. Not when there's another perfectly reasonable option. The Serpents are no more likely to find us than they are Denny and Russell. We need help. Human help. I don't see any other options right now."

She wanted to ask Sideswipe if he did, but she was afraid that might make her sound weak and lacking in confidence. She was doing her best to emulate the leaders she knew, not just Bumblebee but everyone she had trusted and respected prior to and during her academy training. They were all so calm, so self-assured. Even in a crisis, they never stopped moving, never lost sight of the objective, never lost control, and never shook the faith of those following them.

She could almost feel the heat Sideswipe's fury was generating, but to her surprise and intense relief, he not only didn't argue but actually answered the question she hadn't dared to ask aloud.

"No, you're right. You're right. I don't see another way," he sighed, and seemed to deflate.

Strongarm felt a thrill of concern for Sideswipe. He not only hadn't argued strenuously, he admitted defeat without so much as one smart-ass remark. She was beginning to think he was lying about being in pain, because she could think of no other reason he would submit to anyone without a fight. Especially her.

She looked at Grimlock, though she wasn't entirely sure why. He had, with obvious reluctance, hauled himself back to a standing position so Fixit could work on straightening his leg out. His eyes were shadowed, his muzzle turned downward, his good leg trembling slightly with his bulk. He was not interested in weighing in on the discussion, and Strongarm wasn't sure why she'd been hoping he might. Probably because he'd had a good idea once today already and she wished there was some solution so obvious, so simple, so _easy_ that she couldn't see it herself.

But it was evident that she couldn't expect to get that lucky twice in one day.

She tried to tell herself that Russell and Denny would be in no real danger. The Serpents couldn't possibly know where the Autobots had fled to, therefore it was no more dangerous for the humans to be with them than not. It wasn't as if they were being followed, or that the Serpents were hunting them down. Strongarm couldn't even be sure the Serpents wanted anyone besides Bee.

Bumblebee. He should have been here. He should _be_ here.

What harm could he do if he couldn't even move?

She shut out that line of thought. Bumblebee had been very clear that he was to be abandoned for now. He seemed certain that he was a threat to them. He was safe enough for now, and had enough to deal with in his head without also trying to solve problems that Strongarm was responsible for.

He'd left her in charge for a reason. She had to believe that, otherwise nothing made sense anymore.

"Alright, if we're all in agreement, I'll call Denny, and let him know we need him."

Nobody argued. In fact, nobody said anything at all. She couldn't help but feel they were silently judging her, as they avoided looking at her. Well, they'd had their shot at pitching a better idea and none of them had said a word. It wasn't like she wanted to involve the humans... but she knew this thing wasn't over, it was just beginning. And the Autobots, it seemed, were already losing. And losing badly.

This was the only thing that she could do. That any of them could do.

She had to wonder though: what happened next?


	18. Chapter 18

Lachesis was growing concerned. Bothrop should have had the Scout by now, however defiant he was. The Scout was just that and nothing more, and it should have been a small matter to slip past whatever feeble mental defenses he had and gain control of him in a matter of hours.

Bothrop had practiced on the rest of the den many times. There had been no limit to the volunteers, they all wanted the Scout to pay for what he'd done, and they were willing to do anything to make sure he paid the highest cost possible. They were not afraid of what Bothrop might learn from or what damage he could cause to their minds. They were all very brave; and besides, they had nothing left to lose.

Lachesis herself had submitted to surgery that was experimental at best. The Decepticons had abandoned the idea of making a weapon that was based on the CPP technology. No one would agree to be the bullet, but moreover no one would agree to share mind space with any of their so-called comrades. Decepticons, always so selfish, so full of their own ambitions, so fearful of one another that their army could hardly be considered cooperative at all.

No wonder they had lost the war.

But Lachesis was not afraid of the surgery. She was not afraid of the physical modifications necessary to allow her to not only safely carry a second mind, but also inject it. At first, the plan had been to modify the stun shot weapon she carried at the back of her mouth, but it was evident that direct contact was necessary. The conduit was her own silver tongue, which she had slipped into a port tucked in the Scout's underside. It was wedged in behind the engine, and nothing thicker or less flexible or shorter than her tongue could have reached it. And no one slower than Bothrop could have slipped freely from her to the Scout as quickly as was required, especially undetected.

To ensure that he did not later change his mind, while in possession of Crotalus, Bothrop had destroyed his own physical body, making sure he had nothing to return to, preventing himself from letting doubts creep in. He had nothing, nothing but this.

Lachesis tried to tell herself that her concern was only natural. They had been planning this for a very long time, and it had taken so much work, and so much had been sacrificed.

But the truth -and she hated herself for it- was that somewhere along the line she had allowed a love greater than what she'd ever had for Pit Viper creep into her spark. It must have happened when Bothrop slipped into her mind. Or maybe when he showed his commitment by destroying his body. Or maybe when he had held her during the surgery when she was in such blinding agony she couldn't bear it and had actually bitten him, her fangs ripping through the plating on his skull and ruining his right eye (this back when he had a body). He hadn't been angry with her, but had later told her that his eye was a worthwhile loss. And then he gave up everything for their cause.

Whenever it had happened, she knew the truth, even as she tried to deny it. She loved Bothrop. She was desperately, hopelessly, absurdly, pathetically in love. She would die before allowing any further harm to come to him.

She wondered if a Decepticon had ever fallen in love, if they were even capable of such a thing, as it required them to put aside what they wanted, and place the welfare of another above that of their own, putting the wants and needs of another ahead of their goals and ambitions.

She supposed probably they hadn't.

She was startled from her reverie by the sound of a shocked gasp. It came from Bumblebee, and she waited, trembling with anticipation, hoping to hear Bothrop through the Scout's voice. Everything had seemed so sure, so easy, but then the Scout proved to be more than she expected. More than Bothrop expected too, by the distressed sound of things.

"Lachesis," he spoke her name with such softness, glistening affection.

Perhaps he did not love her back, but he at least shared her passion and they were united in this objective. She was not a threat to him, and they both needed each other if this was to work.

"You have the Scout?" she asked, half afraid of the answer.

"I have achieved physical control," Bothrop sounded slightly strained, tired even, "Mental command is going to take a bit longer than we planned for."

"You will succeed," Lachesis said encouragingly, "I do not doubt that."

"In the meantime, he has released to me the codes for the control center. He does not know it, but he has given us the means to track the whereabouts of the other Autobots, so we can easily find them when the time comes."

"If I repair him, can you make his body come with us? Do you have that much control now?"

"He cannot hurt you, Lachesis; not anymore," he said, so very gently, as if that was what mattered to him more than anything, "His body is mine now, completely."

She felt a soft pulse in her spark, a flutter of emotion. Those words he used, she wanted so badly for them to mean what she thought, but she was afraid of this, and this alone. What if she was wrong? What if he felt nothing for her but camaraderie? What if this was all there was?

The thought terrified her, and she found herself shaking as she slipped her silvery tongue around the nearest wire and struggled to reconnect it, her emotions roiling through her like an angry sea.

What if they had only this in common and nothing else? What if there was nothing left between them when this was all over? What if the end of this was... really the end? What if she ended up alone?

"Lachesis, are you alright? You're trembling," his strength rumbled through, in spite of the grating nature of the Scout's vocal pipes, and she steadied herself against the body her beloved inhabited.

"I am merely excited, Bothrop. We're so close," the lie slipped off her tongue easily, smoothly, just as Pit Viper had taught her; as he had taught all of them.

She wished that her voice hitched, that her emotions had surfaced through her tone, that Bothrop would hear her, hear the truth of it through the easy lie. But she was too well trained for that. The Viper had made sure they all were before they were submitted for change that first time. When they went through the ultimate transformation, that made them the living weapons they were, but took from them everything that made them recognizable as Cybertronian in the process.

Her eyes could see in almost every known spectrum, her easily replaced fangs housed enough venom to bring down a dinobot inside of thirty seconds if necessary (she had used only a fraction of what she was capable of in the initial skirmish with the Autobots), her stunner turned to its highest level could damage a spark as well as paralyzing her opponent. Her body strength was enough to crush armor plating with minimal effort. Her physical layout was such that she could redirect the flow of energon as necessary, to prevent bleeding out from a wound. She was more technology than biology, but she had never once looked back.

She had nowhere to return to. She had lost nothing of value in the exchange.

"We are close," Bothrop agreed impassively, "But steady yourself; the hardest part is yet to come."

She couldn't believe that was true. She almost wished she could.

* * *

Bumblebee felt a wave of warmth directed towards Bothrop as it passed through him from Lachesis. He was surprised to realize that Lachesis could be soft, affectionate, caring even. The sound in her voice was so different from Pit Viper, he found it hard to believe she had ever followed such a monster.

He realized he was hearing Lachesis through Bothrop's perceptions. Maybe she sounded soft only to his ears. It was distracting for both of them, and Bothrop shut himself off from it quickly. Bumblebee was looking for any opportunity to wrest control from his body snatcher, and it sure seemed like Lachesis was a chink in his armor. She was a distraction, though Bumblebee was not certain how Bothrop was responding to Lachesis. He had thus far found no way into Bothrop's mind unless it was by invitation, and so far Bothrop hadn't offered one.

Inside, he smelled smoke, and fire, but he knew there was nothing like that outside his head. It was just the memories Bothrop had warped, perhaps beyond repair. Bumblebee wasn't sure he could get the fractured pieces back together and be himself again. But he still had fragments, portions Bothrop wasn't thinking about or didn't dare to touch.

It was clear Bothrop knew nothing of Scouts. It was in their training to go undetected, to keep things concealed, and to remember everything they saw in detail. Bumblebee's mind was so full of stuff and places to hide key memories that Bothrop hadn't sifted through even a fraction of it yet.

He didn't waste time trying to fight for memories Bothrop had sunk his fangs into, he let Bothrop have them, no matter how precious they were to him. He had to make sure that, when the time came, he still had enough of himself to use what few weapons he had.

Perhaps not to take back what was his, but at least, if he succeeded, enough to stop the killing.

To stop himself from destroying everything and everyone he loved.

* * *

"Ow! Fixit, be careful!" Sideswipe complained, "Those are my wires you're crossing, not pieces of string. If you wanted to abuse my wiring, why did you reconnect my ability to feel it!?"

"Because," Fixit replied patiently, "I need you to tell me when something hurts. Without my equipment, I need you awake and talking, so I know if I'm doing something wrong."

"Well that-," Sideswipe broke off with a stifled yelp, then resumed, "-feels _wrong_!"

"Sorry," he didn't sound all that sorry.

Strongarm had played chauffeur for Denny and Russell, and they'd gotten everything they could on Fixit's list, first from a couple of junk dealers Denny knew, and secondly from a couple of hardware stores. But some things simply didn't exist on Earth, and Denny had brought some things he hoped could be improvised. Fixit didn't say it, but he certainly looked dubious.

Certainly Strongarm couldn't blame him fom looking skeptical about the soldering iron. It looked positively medieval, which was an Earth expression Strongarm had taken to mean either "extremely outdated" or "completely unsafe". Maybe both.

She was glad she wasn't the one it was being applied to.

But she was frustrated. She felt so utterly useless in all of this. She knew she should be thinking of a plan to take down the Serpents, but frankly she couldn't think of anything. They had Bumblebee's mind in their clutches, and were doing who knew what to him. They had taken Grimlock to the ground in a single bite, the poison had interacted with his brain chemistry and sent him on a rampage he had no memory of -during which he had tried to kill each of them at least once.

Whatever weapon or tech advantages Fixit could have thought up for them were back at the scrapyard. They had almost no weapons. Strongarm had regained her firearm through Bumblebee's quick thinking, but she wasn't sure if Sideswipe had his and Grimlock... well, he mostly didn't use one as he wasn't very good with them. His weapons were attached, and (now Fixit had repaired his knee) in good working order. She slowly turned over the realization that all they were _really_ missing was Bumblebee.

"Ouch!" Sideswipe flinched backward, a spark lashing across his engine.

"Hold still," Fixit retorted.

"No way. You come near me with that thing again and I'll flatten you!"

"Sideswipe, calm down," Strongarm snarled, in no mood for any of this, "Fixit, be gentle. We don't have time to be fighting with each other. Right now there's a den of snakes out there, and I highly doubt they're going to stop when they finish us off. They're a threat to the Earth, and we're supposed to be protecting it from just that kind of danger, not... _hiding_ in the _woods_!"

She regretted shouting almost as soon as she'd done it. Everyone was staring at her. Fixit gaped owlishly, the soldering iron held up in his right hand. Grimlock had lifted his head the moment she raised her voice, but didn't actually stand up. Denny and Russell looked as shocked as all the rest.

But it was Sideswipe who spoke.

"Geez, take a stasis nap and chill out," he muttered, "You're so grouchy."

"And _you're_ impossible," Fixit told him, recovering from his shocked state.

"Yeah well, I don't think you have any idea what you're doing. I wouldn't feel any less safe if Strongarm was performing this operation!"

"Well perhaps she should," Fixit snapped, "Now quit fidgeting and it won't hurt so much."

"Says you!"

Russell, nearer to Strongarm than the others, looked up at her.

"You sure know how to inspire the troops," he said sarcastically.

Strongarm narrowed her eyes, but refrained from making any kind of retort. It wasn't her habit to fight with children. Glancing at Sideswipe, she amended that thought to _human_ children.

 _Do they even realize what kind of trouble we're in?_ She wondered, _Don't they get it?_


	19. Chapter 19

Cybertronians do not have parents in an Earthen sense. The raising of their young is, in some respects, a closely held secret. But they do have the concept of teenagers, or something that translates roughly to it. They understand the complexity of family, even though they themselves do not have brothers or sisters in the human sense. They also can, and do, feel and express love, in all three of its most popularly recognized forms.

Bumblebee knew all of this, of course. But it still surprised him to find, in the enemy, in the heat of battle, a kind of romantic love he had never seen anywhere among his own kind. And it was in the heat of battle, though there were no guns, no sabers, no physical confrontation at all.

It was a battle of wills, of intellect, and spark. Bumblebee was losing, and he knew it.

He had gotten a brief respite while Bothrop struggled with the oddities of his physical form. His vehicle form was not unlike that of the Serpents, but after transformation he had more, less, some or none of things that Bothrop had to figure out what to do with or how to do without.

Bothrop spent a good hour and a half staggering around the scrapyard, bumping into things, falling over and nearly trampling a number of the snakes lying about.

"I will never understand the need for five additional limbs on the end of an already unnecessary appendage," Bothrop growled as he attempted to curl his newly possessed hand into a fist and then straighten the fingers again, "This is absolutely impossible."

 _Turns out, they won't let you in the police academy with just four. Something about dexterity,_ Bumblebee thought, and was satisfied by the directionless lash of irritation Bothrop hit him with.

Bothrop got clumsy when he was annoyed, and it only stung a little. It did no lasting damage, and Bothrop was too busy being distracted to actually punish Bumblebee properly. Bothrop's control slipped when he tried to master the physics of being Bumblebee. Which was doubtless why he was practicing here and now instead of later. He was being cautious, just in case Bumblebee broke from the brainwashing he was progressing through. But it was slowing him down, dividing his attention.

"Is he very annoying?" Lachesis whispered, her perceptive gaze seeing the sudden jerkiness to the body's movements as the two minds sparred with one another.

"Extremely," Bothrop replied, regaining composure and full control, "But nothing more."

"He _is_ only a bug, after all," Lachesis said quietly.

"A noisy one that stings," Bothrop told her, "But yes. Easily managed."

 _Easily? Then how come operating one hand is giving you fits?_

" _Enough!"_ this time Bothrop was prepared, and the pain he sent Bumblebee's way was blinding, and blanked out all thought and feeling for an indeterminate amount of time.

When Bumblebee recovered enough, he found Bothrop had returned to mastering physical movement. Lachesis was still watching, her eyes glowing with something other than hate for once. Passion. For Bothrop? For seeing her plans come to fruition? Did it matter? She was growing confident, and that might make her careless.

Bumblebee knew he could not win here. Even if he got control, the Serpents would be quick to bring him down and hold him until Bothrop regained mastery. And Bothrop had a lot more experience with control than Bumblebee. Bumblebee was a Scout, not a prison guard. He knew his strengths as well as he had observed Bothrop's. But he also knew how taxing those minor irritants became over time.

He knew annoying. He knew what it felt like to be annoyed by a pesky someone you couldn't get rid of, and he knew well how to be that pest. Being annoying was all he had just now, but it was a card he played well. And he was not afraid of what Bothrop might do. Bothrop needed him alive and intact; the worst he could do was inflict pain, and that was going to happen anyway.

* * *

 _Don't they get it?_ Strongarm thought again.

Then she recognized the slight tremor in Sideswipe's voice while he argued with Fixit, the way he seemed to hesitate before plunging into each sentence, like he was... thinking, calculating... making some kind of decision and not just spitting out the first words that came to mind as was his more usual habit. She couldn't quite believe it could be, but she wasn't mistaken. Maybe the rest of them didn't get it, but Sideswipe _did_. But, if he understood, why would he be- oh. Of course.

Here she was, losing her temper over trivial things when there were important issues. They were all tired and scared and... and Sideswipe was trying to make sure the others didn't see that she was just as scared and confused and clueless as the rest of them.

He was... protecting her. Them. The team. He was... being helpful, in his own brazen kind of way.

More than that, he was being loud and obnoxious and demanding enough that everyone was paying more attention to him than Strongarm, or the trouble they were in. It was a strangely touching effort, from a very unexpected source. She wouldn't normally have credited Sideswipe with the awareness to realize how much trouble they were in, or the consideration to try and keep panic at bay by occupying everyone's attention with trivial matters such as his opinion of Fixit's repairing capabilities.

If Sideswipe could do that much, surely she could at least come up with a plan.

She could do that much. Couldn't she?

The team was counting on her. More importantly, Bumblebee, her lieutenant -her leader- had given her this job to do. He trusted her with the one thing he valued above all else. This team, his team, and -should it come to that- the mission they had assembled to complete.

 _Now is the time._

* * *

"I have had enough of the Scout's incessant babbling," Bothrop said aloud.

Lachesis said nothing, but slid closer to him, trying not to be repulsed by the hateful Scout. It was just a body, the Scout was under the will of Bothrop. She ducked her head close, wondering what it would feel like for the palm to stroke across her, but Bothrop did not appear to share her curiosity.

"Are you sure? You sound tired, Bothrop," Lachesis said, "Perhaps you should rest."

"He will not allow it," Bothrop replied, "He is tormenting me even now, thoughts, feelings, memories. It is intolerable, and he will continue so long as my control is merely physical."

Lachesis slid her body closer and he sat down amidst her coils. They both knew there was a chance the Scout would break his physical hold, and try to do something, perhaps even commit suicide. Lachesis would hold him so Bothrop would not have to concern himself. The other Serpents gathered, but would not touch the Scout. They were too much appalled by the body of the Scout they hated. If they ever touched him, it would be to tear him apart, and that would ruin everything.

Lachesis was the only one with the necessary self-control to hold him without damaging him. She was also the only one who could, without aid, rip the Scout limb from limb should it become absolutely necessary. She refused to think of that, because to destroy the Scout would be to kill Bothrop, and that was the one thing she could not bear.

She had every confidence in him.

As gently as she could, she wrapped herself around the curled up form, sensing the steady pulse of energon flowing from one point to another, tasting the dirt and grit on the surface of the armor, feeling the shuddering physical strength of every inch of the body Bothrop now held in check. Shaking, trembling. His control was even now tenuous. He was right, there was no time.

Even now, the Scout fought for control, driving Bothrop to the edge of sanity in ways he had not been prepared for by entering the complacent minds of his allies. They had tried to train for the eventuality, but not one of their number wanted to actually hurt Bothrop, much less drive him out and destroy him. They knew the Scout would be more difficult than any challenge they could contrive, but Bothrop had been confident. Confident enough to let Lachesis carry his mind in her body, to take the shot, and to bring about the beginning of the end.

Her grip tightened as she tried to still the shaking. Then she realized she was trembling too. She unfocused her eyes, driving her attention inwards, stilling her doubts and fears and readying herself.

"I am here," she whispered.

She felt it when Bothrop slipped away from the surface. She felt it in every inch of her body, first by the coldness that came on as the presence of her beloved retreated from her. And then by the tearing, thrashing, clawing of the Scout as he regained control of his own body and fought her. His screaming filled her sound receptors, and she struggled to resist the impulse to tighten her grip, to crush him, to force him to quit fighting. But she could hold no tighter or risk injuring or even killing him. She could not take that chance, the Scout must be intact.

She found herself crying out as the Scout used every fraction of every inch to his advantage, straining her body in ways she didn't think possible. He was hurting her, he was going to rip her apart. She was not aware of the Serpents winding their way around, wondering if they should help her, or just stand by, concerned for her as their leader, hating the Scout with everything that they had.

And then, suddenly, silence, stillness. The Scout became limp in her grip, and she knew Bothrop had his undivided attention. The body shook, shuddered, and sometimes moaned, but neither Bothrop nor Bumblebee was in charge of it or taking control. The war was in the mind now.

"It is alright now," Lachesis whispered, though she was uncertain if she was addressing Bothrop inside or the Serpents circling her nervously, "There is nothing more to fear."

* * *

Bothrop neither heard nor cared to hear what Lachesis said. He was more than annoyed by the Scout, he was absolutely furious. What enraged him most was that the Scout seemed to know just how to tick him off, how to shake his control just when he thought he finally had the damned thing in his grip.

So long as the Scout's mind was alive, conscious and unaltered, he would be looking for avenues of escape, or at least ways to make Bothrop's life Hell. The Scout's being was as impish as it was murderous. Even as Bothrop manipulated it to his desires, the Scout's being flexed and twisted in its own ways, becoming different and even darker than what Bothrop had intended.

There was a Devil under the skin of the Scout, and Bothrop realized he was not so much changing the Scout as turning that thing loose, unleashing the dark impulses that existed in the Scout's core already. There was a part of Bumblebee that actively wanted this, even as the other part of him resisted and fought back without any apparent regard for his chances of success or even the soundness of strategy. He was just lashing out, pulling away, writhing out of Bothrop's hold, turning, fighting, and then suddenly acting like this was all some kind of terribly amusing game.

The Scout's mind was a horror house of diversity and contradiction, his spark multifaceted, as full of darkness as it was of light, as capable of savagery as it was of sainthood. It was at once serious and ridiculous, playful and vicious, humorless and hysterical. As Bothrop sorted through all of these things, progressing deeper into the Scout's bizarre psyche, it came to him suddenly. The Autobot Scout was insane. That was the only explanation for any of this nonsense.

Knowing that, his confidence was restored. He could handle this, he could manage this. He had all of the power now that he'd seen the truth at the Scout's core.

Bothrop was the chosen son of Pit Viper. He would not fail.


	20. Chapter 20

**Part 3 – And Hell Will Follow**

" _I am a monster, you know. One of the dangerous ones."_ \- _**Darkest Minds (Alexandra Bracken)**_

* * *

The sun had disappeared from the sky, hidden behind angry, roiling black clouds. The warmth of the past few days had dissipated all in an instant, and cold hung in the air, frost touched the rusted skeletons of old vehicles, a chill pervaded the air. Daylight filtered through the black, but it was weak, faint, and the world was hung with the shades of gray typically reserved for dawn.

If he stood without doing anything for long enough, his mind would take over, transforming the world to a sea of black, broken only by the red sky overhead. A black figure covered the sky, hiding the light from view, save for the dark red that seeped between the feathers of its outstretched wings, turning them a bloodless burgundy. He didn't understand it, or his longing for the light the figure was blocking. He knew it would be seen as weakness, they would cut him down before he knew what it meant. Weakness was mercilessly eradicated, only the strong were allowed to stand.

It was something he understood and quietly accepted. Reality was not something he was foolish enough to find faults in. But he was weak right now. His hatred of all that lived, all that existed, was so total, so dark that he could be nothing else. Such blackened rage bespoke of an entity devoid of any goodness, and hope or any desire save that of death itself. Everything he had ever cared about, if he had ever been capable of such a thing, had died, betrayed him, destroying and being destroyed by him.

This was his reality.

" _How do you fare, Scout?"_

He only vaguely recognized the voice in his head. His memories of Autobots were much stronger. And he loathed them for it. Somehow, he felt that if he could just destroy them, the memories would go too. He didn't want to remember them. Those memories made him weak and vulnerable, and he hated them.

 _{I am no Scout!}_ he shrieked, his mind unable to find the source of the voice, so instead he lashed out by punching a pyramid of wooden dinghys.

He shattered one, sent the others cascading over one another, crashing to the ground. The Serpents at the pyramid's base squealed and scattered to avoid being crushed by the weight of the debris.

His anger not spent, he ripped one dinghy from the ground and hurled it, narrowly missing the she-creature waiting patiently behind him. The wood exploded around her when the little boat hit the metal crates behind her, but she did not flinch, not even when splinters struck her.

Bumblebee hated her. He hated the voice. He hated this place. He hated the sky, the wind, the Serpents, the piles of nondescript crap, the dirt, the thunder in the air, the lightning in the sky, the rain preparing to fall, the feel of grit and sand in his joints, the color of the she-creature's eyes as they lit with a mysterious excitement. But he most of all hated, hated, _hated_ the Earth and all that lived and breathed upon it, most especially the Autobots. Why? He didn't know. The question itself made him feel claustrophobia and he recoiled from thinking on it.

"I believe he is ready," the voice spoke through him and he hated that too.

"Good," the she-creature had a lilt to her voice when she was pleased, and a soft hiss at the end of her sentences, "Then it is time we set him free."

 _{You have no say in what I do!}_ Bumblebee snarled, trembling with the unsustainably powerful fury that threatened to burn through him, burn him into a puddle, burn him to the ground, _{I do as I please!}_

"And what, dear Scout, would please you?"

The words had barely left her vile mouth, slipping off the end of that silver tongue, when he had her pinned against the outer wall of the control center, his hand wrapped around her throat, his elbow digging into her exposed belly as her body futilely tried to curl around and strangle him off. He knew he had her by the nerves at the base of her skull, his thumb dug in and turned her violent struggles into feeble, meaningless spasms and uncontrolled twitching.

 _{Call me 'Scout' again, and I rip your head off and feed your body to your brothers and sisters.}_

A scorching pain raced from the base of his skull, up and down his spine, along his limbs, an electric fire searing through his veins, burning, flaming, until he was forced to loosen his grip on the she-creature and take a staggering step backwards, creating a space between herself and him.

The agony continued to notch up, a white-hot flame bursting across his senses, driving him to his knees, throttling him, dropping him to the ground until he was gasping with it, unable to cycle air, unable to move, unable to even _think_.

" _Touch her again, and I kill you."_

The voice, voice in his head, snarling and growling, telling him what to think and who to be. He hated it. He hated them all. He wanted them all dead. Starting with the Autobots and ending with the she-creature. Everything, everyone, it was all so despicable, so utterly disgusting and hateful and he just wanted death; wanted it, craved it, burned with _need_ for it. And the voice was holding him back!

He screamed then, but not from pain, not from fear. It was a death scream, a feral wail of ancient, unquenchable thirst, a desire, a demand, a voiced need for blood, a scream from Hell.

The she-creature recovered quickly. Slithering out of his reach, she curled her lower half into a tight knot and raised the upper half of her body off the ground, her eyes gleaming with more pleasure than seemed appropriate for the situation, considering she had nearly lost her head seconds before.

"You _are_ ready," she purred with pure delight.

Bumblebee convulsed, seething inside with pain of caged madness, the white circles in his eyes turning unnaturally dark, a pounding in his head sounded like the drums of war. He swayed on his knees where he'd been forced, sensing the exhaustion of his master, that other mind speaking in whispers to him, using his voice against him. The voice had lost its power over him.

Now Bumblebee was in control. He turned to the she-creature, the storm in his mind beginning to calm, letting fragments of thought enter hesitantly through cracked doors. She was Lachesis, and he had demands to make of her.

 _{Where is my prey?}_

* * *

Sideswipe knew he shouldn't have driven off alone. He knew, of course, that Fixit was probably right. He was damaged, needed time to heal. But everything was hooked up again, he could feel that his body wasn't even trying to transform. He was stuck like this, no good to anybody, least of all himself.

He was angry, he was scared, and he was tired of trying to hide that, of trying to keep everybody calm while Strongarm slowly fell to pieces. He couldn't help her, he couldn't help them, couldn't even help himself. There was nothing he could do, and it wasn't like a clearing in the woods constituted a base of operations anyway. He might as well go for a drive, pretend he was patrolling, that he was being useful. At least it was something to _do_.

Surprisingly, Strongarm hadn't argued with him about it. Even Fixit had said a long drive might be just the thing, getting his body used to the idea of working again. Just so long as he didn't try to break any speed records. He wasn't sure it was true, but he saw that Strongarm, at least, understood. Not that her understanding was necessary, not that it had ever mattered to him what she thought.

He still owed Fixit an apology, but right now he was hurting too much to remember what for.

Sideswipe wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, or how fast he was getting there. Just so long as he didn't have to look at what had happened to his team, so they didn't have to see what had happened to him, so he could just -if only for a moment- be free. Like he used to be, before all of this.

Sideswipe had never felt any need to be of service to society. He wasn't a Warrior like Bumblebee, had never trained in any academy -much less a police academy- as Strongarm had. Hell, he wasn't even the brawler Grimlock had been. He was an aimless slacker and he damn well liked it that way. Nothing had ever felt like it was missing from his life, except for the fact that Cybertron continually came up with more laws to prohibit any and all kinds of unauthorized fun, even if it wasn't hurting anybody.

Nobody had called him to be here. Hell, nobody had even _wanted_ him here.

But seeing his first human... that had awakened something inside him. Not so much a desire to be useful, or even a need to protect, and certainly no want to serve. But humans were so small, so fragile. They couldn't defend themselves, and Decepticons would stomp all over them, break them into little pieces and use their bones as tooth picks or hood ornaments.

Sideswipe had known, without having to think, that he could do something to protect them.

Like it or not, his core was Autobot, his spark beat with sympathy for the powerless. He would guard them not because he wanted to, but because he could. If he had to join the army to give the humans a fair shot at existence, so be it. That's what being an Autobot meant, doing things that maybe you didn't want to do because it was right, and Autobots chose that sort of life. Every time.

Sideswipe knew now what he was, and what he was called to do. He didn't have to like it, but there it was, plain and simple and inarguable as that. Only now... now that had been stripped from him. He couldn't protect _anyone_ now. In fact, the people he cared about could get hurt protecting _him_. They could be hurt because he wasn't able to do his part, to play his role in this team. They might die.

 _Why was I given this chance, shown this path, if I was never meant to be on it? Why am I even here!?_

What was the point in knowing his purpose, in finally feeling like he needed one in the first place in order to be happy, when he couldn't fulfill it? What was the point in caring about others when he couldn't do a damned thing to help them? What did any of it matter if it came to this, Serpents driving out and killing the Autobots, leaving the Earth open for the Decepticons to take over?

He realized his engine was starting to overheat. He was going too fast, and had been for too long.

With a frustrated growl, he pulled over to the side of the road and cut power. His engine hissed, something beneath the plating popped, crackled, heated metal almost immediately beginning to cool as the pressure was relieved. He let the ache of it spread through him, glad he could feel it at least.

Then he realized that he could hear something else. He sat still trying to listen, but the snap of his cooling engine was loud, and the only thing he could hear above it was the slow rumble of distant thunder across the sky.

He didn't like thunder. He'd never heard anything like it back home, to him it seemed unnatural. It was loud, ominous and he didn't understand how it worked, and somehow it was all the worse because the humans always wanted to get indoors whenever a storm came and he didn't know why.

The sky was so dark, everything was faded to gray. He didn't like the way the heavy clouds blocked certain types of light and seemed to coat everything in a fog, softening and stretching outlines until one object just bled into another seamlessly. He didn't like it, because it made every shape a menacing one. He couldn't recognize things visually, and it drove his optics mad as they fought to identify what he was seeing. Cybertronians weren't meant for this kind of lighting or weather.

And then... the rain. Water falling from the sky. At first little puffs of mist, then harder, faster, heavier, destroying vision and running into every crack and opening, flowing over and through him like energon spilling from the sky, hissing when it slid in and made contact with the hot engine, popping and snapping against him as it sizzled into nothing. He didn't like it.

But what he liked even less was the sudden, too-bright headlights that snapped on and cut through the gloom. He winced at the brightness, trying to see the vehicle behind them. There was something familiar, but he couldn't make it out through the rain. So he took a guess.

"Strongarm?" No answer. Headlights were too low to the ground anyway.

He heard the low growl of a living engine, the Cybertronian pulse of spark beneath the combustion. But there was something... wrong with it. Something unnatural. And it had nothing to do with the rain.

Sideswipe slowly, quietly, shifted gears and prepared to run.

As though sensing his intention, the Cybertronian engine roared. The headlights wavered for a moment, and then the vehicle was racing towards him, a yellow-black streak slipping through the dark.

Sideswipe reversed, backing quickly until his tires hit the road, then swinging around to face the other way. Before he could switch gears, the other vehicle slammed into him. Metal shrieked against tearing metal as the front of the oncoming vehicle hit Sideswipe in the back left fender.

The force of impact sent him sideways, rubber squealing against pavement, leaving sharp black lines. He rocked clear of the other vehicle for a moment, then it slammed into him again. It was going to flip him. It was going to roll him onto his back, rendering him more helpless than he already was.

He reversed, feeling every bit of his assailant's front tearing along his side, puncturing his door frame at one point, tearing the paint right off him. He turned and launched himself free, wobbling at little but managing to even out on his shock absorbers as he fled. In his rear view, the headlights flashed.

 _Call Strongarm. Do it now. She needs to know about this. She needs to-_

The crushing force as his assailant slammed into him from behind rattled the thoughts around in his head, and he fumbled, trying desperately to remember how his comm unit even worked (knowledge which had never escaped his mind before this very moment). In his scramble to remember, he finally put a face and a name to the beast that was trying to tear him apart.

"Bumblebee! What are you doing?" he thought of a better question as Bumblebee moved up and hit him from the side, trying to drive him off into a ditch, "Why are you doing this!?"

All that he got as a response was an ominous hiss, followed by an inarticulate buzz. Then he felt the tires on his right side lose their ground, hanging in the air for a moment before he was forced over the side. He tumbled into the ditch and rolled, smashing into shrubs on the way down, finally coming to rest on his roof at the bottom of the ditch, his wheels spinning helplessly in the air.

Above him, he heard Bumblebee's engine growl.


	21. Chapter 21

Fear rippled through Strongarm when Sideswipe's call came through.

" _I was attacked-"_ he followed that with his location and a quietly spoken, _"I think he's gone."_

But there was something wrong with him. She could hear the pain and the fear, but there was something deeper than that. Something that felt bitter and wronged, and she knew... she _knew_ , even as she desperately tried to deny it to herself, to tell herself she was just reading into things too much.

Grimlock went with her, concealed beneath a tarp as usual. But he didn't seem to have heard what she did, he just looked angry, and frustrated at having nothing to hit. She reminded herself that, strong as he looked, Grim was still fragile, perhaps even more than Sideswipe, who couldn't even have defended himself against any assault. She should never have let him go.

" _She's in my_ head _, Strongarm. She's taking over."_ that's what Bumblebee had said.

They'd found him. Of course they'd found him. And somehow, someway they were forcing him to do this. It had to have been him that attacked Sideswipe. That was the only explanation. This was her fault. She should have made sure Bee couldn't be found, should have hidden him, should have kept Sideswipe with the group. None of this should have happened, everything had already gone wrong and it was only getting worse the longer this went on and she had no solution, there was no way out...

They found Sideswipe upside down in a ditch.

"Strongarm?" the question, tinged with fear, cut her to the core.

But he was alive. God, he was alive and that was more of a second chance than she deserved. He was still alive, when by all rights he should have been killed. He couldn't fight back if he was attacked, couldn't even run away as well as usual. But Sideswipe was alive, and right now that was everything.

"Help me get him out, Grim," she said, transforming quickly, then hesitating, "Are you hurt, Sideswipe?"

"Doesn't matter, just get me turned over," Sideswipe's muffled voice was strained, but mostly frightened. There could be nothing more terrifying than being flipped over and not being able to transform, being left in such an utterly defenseless state was a kind of cruelty in itself.

Bumblebee didn't have that kind of cruelty in him. But Lachesis did.

"Just take it easy, we'll get you out," Strongarm said, "But you've got to tell us if you're damaged. We could make the damage worse when we move you if we aren't careful."

"My left side," Sideswipe seemed panicky now, like he was scared telling her would make her decide to leave him there rather than risk injuring him further, "He tore all down my left side. But I don't care, I don't care if it hurts, I don't care if it makes me bleed, just _get me out_ , please!"

"Okay, it's alright, just calm down. Calm down."

" _You_ calm down!" Sideswipe yelped, "I'm the one that's trapped!"

Strongarm realized her voice had been shaking, that she was letting her own fears surface. She shook her head. Sideswipe was right, if anyone had right to panic, it was him, not her.

"Alright, you're right. Just take it easy, okay?" she forced her tone to remain soft and level, "Just-"

"Just get me out!" Sideswipe interrupted frantically, "It's _dark_ in here!"

She knew he wasn't talking about the light levels or even the ditch, but his own crippling terror. She wasn't sure he even knew what he was saying. She realized he might have been taunted, tormented once he was stuck like this, and that he'd had no way of knowing when it was over, when he'd been left alone. And then... then he'd been all alone, alone with fear she couldn't even try imagining.

This wasn't like being tied up or locked in a cell, this was... this was cruel and unusual. Even Decepticons didn't treat their prisoners like this... or maybe they did and it was just stricken from the record. Strongarm had come to realize a lot of things hadn't been recorded.

"I'm climbing down for a closer look," Strongarm told Grimlock, "the rain's made the sides of the ditch muddy, and I want to see how badly he's wedged in before we start trying to pull him free."

Grim nodded wordlessly. He hadn't missed the fear in Sideswipe's voice, but he didn't have a vehicle mode. He couldn't imagine having all four wheels in the air because he didn't _have_ wheels. But he didn't appear to think Sideswipe was being ridiculous. Grim was good at that. Because his ability to understand things was so limited, he knew how to accept without understanding.

Sideswipe was completely petrified, that's all Grim needed to know. His fierce eyes had taken on an unusual softness and he shifted his weight, impatient to pull Sideswipe out of that fear.

Strongarm wished she could be so understanding.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Not only hadn't the Scout balked at attacking the lone Autobot, it had actually been his idea. Bothrop had expected to have to goad the Scout on, pulling up some twisted or bent memory to spur him into action. But the Scout had actually required restraint, attacking with such vigor he almost spun himself off the road, Bothrop had fought to rein him in to slow him down, to make sure he thought his actions through. Bothrop didn't want the Scout to tear himself apart on the first attack.

The Scout had fought him, balked at the control, his mind eager to spill energon. In his mind's eye, he pictured ripping, tearing, bleeding, death. The images came hard and fast and left Bothrop breathless. Even brainwashed, he shouldn't have been this completely insanely violent in mind.

 _I have created a Rogue._

Bothrop remembered Rogues from the war, more often Decepticons than Autobots, but either way they were no longer a part of either side. Something happened and they snapped, and then all they seemed to want or care about was killing and violence and they didn't care who they wrought it on or how much damage they took in the process or even if it killed them. Frenetic, wild, almost primitive thoughts and drives were governing the Scout now, the first clue had been the basic speech he reverted to, a clue Bothrop hadn't recognized, or maybe ignored.

The Scout had been so aggressive in his attack, so eager for blood, the thought of transforming never even entered his fractured mind. Bothrop knew he remembered how, but the Scout just flat didn't care. Given the damage he inflicted in a matter of seconds, transformation did suddenly seem trivial. Bothrop had never considered fighting in vehicle mode, had thought vehicle mode incapable of having decent weaponry. But it was just another kind of combat to the Scout. Just another way to kill.

Then something happened. An explosion of images jarred him, broke the killing frenzy of the Scout. Suddenly, he lost interest in the helpless Autobot he'd caught. The Scout's mind had bucked against its own desires, and thrown Bothrop completely out of control for a moment, spinning him into darkness.

The explosion of images had each contained one defining element: Pit Viper.  
Memories Bothrop had not touched, yet which now surfaced with such force he wondered if perhaps he should have. But they were not pacifying the Scout, his spark was in no danger of regaining its former bright softness, nor turning to sympathy or compassion or any of the gentleness that marked a normal Autobot spark. It only flared darker, more intense in its pulsing, as though the Scout's very being railed against being caged in this corporeal form, as though it wanted to break free and burn down the whole universe. This was a monster Bothrop had not reckoned on unleashing, nor even suspected capable of existing beneath the stable, cool surface of the Scout's mind when he'd first touched it.

When he regained a semblance of control, Bothrop tentatively touched the Scout's mind, only to find it was scalding hot, seething with a newly directed hatred. Bothrop wasn't sure what had happened, but it was obvious the Scout had not broken free of the alterations Bothrop had made. Not even close.

The Scout was sinking into a deeper blackness than even Bothrop had thought possible. He was doing it on purpose, seeking an ever more savage self. And he was going to take Bothrop down with him.

" _What are you doing, Scout?"_

The response was an angry, but ill-directed, mental slash. The Scout missed Bothrop entirely, but the force behind the attack was not inconsiderable. Where had he gotten that? He had exhibited no talent for such things before, the mental struggle had been almost entirely one sided. The Scout had defended himself admirably, blocking Bothrop from the inner reaches of his mind as long as he could, but had never actually achieved anything like the attack that had just now missed.

 _{Get out of my head, Serpent! And stop calling me 'Scout'!}_ the thought was snarled aloud, as if the Scout no longer realized his every coherent thought could be read by Bothrop.

" _Where are you going? The Autobot is back there. No doubt calling for backup. Why leave?"_

 _{How small you think, Serpent,}_ the Scout laughed without humor, _{You do not kill the enemy by attacking their extremities. You go straight for the spark. One shot, one kill.}_

" _I do not understand."_

 _{That,}_ the Scout snarled, _{is because you are a fool. You have no idea what you are doing. You are a child toying with things which are beyond your comprehension. Your understanding is limited, your power clumsy. You are but an amateur, with little understanding of what it is you are trying to accomplish. Now be silent and get out of my way, or next time I will not miss.}_

This was not what Bothrop had intended. Whatever he had wrought, it had torn free of his grasp and was now spiraling out of control. It had already tried to kill Lachesis, was threatening him, and was not listening to any of his suggestions. Yet it was doing what he wanted. It was going after the Autobots. Only he didn't understand how, or what it was planning.

He knew he should find out, but the idea of brushing against that burning hot mind with its will of iron was a daunting notion. Bothrop was surprised to recognize his own fear. He was not afraid to die, nor of how much destruction the Scout might bring down around him. What he feared was that he had lost control, and he didn't know why. The Scout had broken from his grasp, and was now free.

And there was no telling what he might do.

* * *

Sideswipe tried, but was unable to hold back the yelp of pain as Grimlock and Strongarm set him right side up on the pavement. It had taken a long time to work him free of the mud, because Strongarm was busy trying to be careful about his wound, especially when she realized he was actively bleeding.

She had halted their progress at one point and had Grimlock hold Sideswipe at an angle so she could patch the wound temporarily before they continued. Sideswipe had done his best not to complain, mostly because he feared if he started talking, he would begin to babble, which would probably turn into some embarrassing offshoot such as blubbering and that was a road he didn't want to take.

But the truth was, he was _scared_. And not just because he was helpless, upside down and in the dark, but because of _who_ had attacked him. He had to tell Strongarm. He had to tell her, and hope she understood and believed him. And that scared him more than anything.

Bumblebee was her idol, her mentor. Sideswipe was some criminal they'd picked up along the way. Even if she did believe him, it would hurt her worse than his wounds now hurt him. Knowing what Bumblebee had done was bad enough, but she would also realize that there would come a time when she had to face him and defend herself... or someone she cared about.

She might have to hurt him... maybe worse.

Sideswipe felt sick at the thought, and he knew Strongarm would feel even worse.

He had already made the decision that, if and when the time came, he would do everything in his power to make sure he was the one to do it. Not because he didn't think Strongarm could pull the trigger, but because he wasn't sure what it would do to her when she inevitably did, even if it was to protect Earth.

"Scrud, you're leaking again," Strongarm muttered, kneeling down to look at Sideswipe's side.

Grimlock was casting wary glances up and down the road, but so far no cars had approached. The sky had turned black, save for the white cloud-to-ground lightning that cut it open, releasing the pouring rain and the rolls of deep thunder that seemed to wash over them and reverberate through their armor.

"Strongarm," Sideswipe felt her hands still at his side, and he sensed in her recognition of what he was going to say, "It... it wasn't a Serpent. Or a Decepticon."

"I know," she said flatly, and resumed working on trying to halt the energon leak.

"It was Bumblebee," her hands twitched and he felt a brief spark of electrical current along his side, the result of disturbing the wound beneath the plating.

"I _know_ ," she said, steadying herself, "There. That should hold until Fixit can get a look at you."

"It's alright," Sideswipe said, "I can get there myself."

"But-"

"You can't tow both of us," he twitched a side mirror at the ever conspicuous Grimlock, "You go ahead, I'll follow. I'll be okay. Just... don't get too far ahead, okay?"

"You better keep up," she knocked him gently on the least damaged part of his front fender, "I don't want to have to drag you out of the mud again."

"We're agreed on that," Sideswipe said, stifling a shudder.

Before they could get themselves organized, a call came over their comm units. It was from Russell.

" _Guys, you've gotta get back here! It's Bee! He's-"_ a crash, a flush of static, then a hasty continuation of the report, _"He's after Fixit, he's gone nuts, and I think he's going to-"_

"Russell? Russ! You're breaking up. Say your last again!" Strongarm shouted over the noise of the rain, "Russell, answer me!"

The sudden silence was deafening.


	22. Chapter 22

Fixit gave a small screech as he was tossed like a limp rag across the clearing. He landed head down in the dirt, but frantically righted himself almost immediately. Bumblebee had turned toward him, head low, hands fisted, his body fairly shaking with fury. Fixit noticed most the fact that his eyes had gone dark, though it took him a moment to see what was different there. The whites had turned a blackish red, bleeding into the blue and staining it dark.

Strongarm had said that Lachesis was taking control of him, but searching Bumblebee's eyes, Fixit saw nothing signaling possession. Not that he really knew what that looked like. But it seemed like there should be a hitch, a jerk, some kind of hesitation or doubt in the unnaturally dark eyes. But the Lieutenant was conveying nothing but a distilled and incandescent rage.

Bumblebee growled and prowled closer, like an insecticon stalking prey. Only with less head movement. And clearer intentions. The comparison broke down fairly quickly, but Fixit couldn't think of a better one as he rolled slowly backward, some subconscious part of him issuing the command to his extremities to keep a certain distance from the infuriated Autobot leader. He knew it had to be subconscious, because his conscious mind was overloaded with disbelief and incomprehension.

"We can talk about this. Whatever they've done to you, you don't have to do this!" Denny was shouting above the rising wind, but the Lieutenant didn't so much as turn in his direction.

The storm hadn't yet broken here, but the rushing wind was ushering it in, and the heat lightning was getting closer by the instant, the bright flashes lighting Bumblebee from behind as he advanced slowly and precisely in Fixit's direction as if they were the only two beings in the universe.

Abruptly, he halted, straightening slightly. He turned his head, and Fixit followed his gaze. Oh God, he'd heard Russell contacting Strongarm. For some reason, that interested him where Denny's yelling had not. As if he knew Denny was merely attempting to distract him.

Bumblebee seemed to glide rather than walk, moving as though his considerable size and weight were meaningless to him. Watching him, Fixit's internal processor registered the training of a Scout. Silent, swift, every action a decisive one because any hesitation or mistake would be the death of one such as he when behind enemy lines. The records talked of Scouts as if they were merely a rank, but they were more than that. They had to be. Fixit didn't know exactly what the distinction between Scout as an occupation and Scout as a rank was, but he knew Bumblebee had been both.

Fixit shook himself, discarding the line of thought. The important thing was that Bumblebee was closing the gap between himself and Russell; the boy had nowhere to run to.

Normally, this was the part where Fixit would run and hide, but he realized that was no way to behave when he was the only Autobot on the scene. The only weapon he had access to was a small electrical charger, that worked a bit like what the humans called a "bug zapper". It seemed appropriate.

Fixit charged, and hit Bumblebee just below the knee. The retaliation must have stunned him, because he neither remembered seeing the hit coming nor feeling it, and only knew he must have been hit because suddenly he was tumbling through the air again. That is, until he hit a thick tree trunk with his back, denting his plating in several places and sending an unwanted jolt to his head.

He shook his head, trying to unscramble his senses, and heard Russell yelling to be put down. He uncrossed his optics and saw that Bumblebee had the boy in one hand, but had halted with Russell only a couple of feet off the ground. He knelt perfectly still, his back to Fixit.

"Put him down!" Denny had gotten a crowbar from somewhere and struck futilely at Bee's armor.

The Lieutenant didn't so much as twitch in response, instead cocking his head at Russell curiously. To Fixit's surprised, Bumblebee initiated a scan, as he would have if he were looking for a new vehicle mode. It didn't make any kind of sense. Cybertronians couldn't disguise themselves as humans (at least, not in that fashion), and Russell was much too small for Bumblebee anyway.

"Stop it!" Denny didn't seem to recognize what Bee was doing, frenzied as he was to get his son out of danger. Bumblebee flatly ignored him, not even batting the human away as he had Fixit (which was likely for the best, since such a blow would probably have killed Denny where it only stunned Fixit).

Suddenly Bee threw Russell to the ground, stood up and back away with a metallic wail. He shook his head and staggered as he moved away, still buzzing incoherently.

Denny was instantly in front of Russell, his eyes on Bumblebee. Russell sat up, rubbing his arm where it had hit the ground, but he seemed unhurt. The only way that was possible was if Bumblebee had accounted for the fragility of humans. When he'd hit Fixit, it hadn't been with excessive force, it had been a casual, indifferent movement on his part. It would have pulverized Russell.

"Lt. Bumblebee?" Fixit asked nervously, "Bumblebee?"

That snapped the Lieutenant out of his fit. But when he rounded on Fixit, the murderous look was still in his eyes. Whatever had happened, it had been a momentary lapse, shaken off as quickly as Fixit shook off his verbal tics once they were interrupted. Bumblebee crouched lower and growled, then spoke for the first time. The single word sentence was not at all reassuring.

 _{Prey...}_

"Oh dear."

Fixit had barely registered that he was once more under attack when Bumblebee had picked him up, thrown him again (more dents, this time in the front when he collided with a rock) and leveled a weapon at him, preparing to blast Fixit into tiny, smoking pieces.

"Bumblebee, no!" Russell's voice cut through the static in Fixit's mind, "That's Fixit! He's your friend!"

Friend might have been stretching it, but there was a moment, the barest hesitation. The blackness in the Lieutenant's eyes flickered, dimming briefly. Fixit dared to hope that he might yet come out of this alive. Then the black returned full force.

 _{I do not have friends. I have only enemies.}_

Bumblebee took aim, and fired.

* * *

Strongarm had abandoned any thought of towing anybody. With no more than a glance at Grimlock and Sideswipe, she could see in their eyes what they thought she should do. It was exactly what she wanted to do, what she was now doing, which was flooring it back the way she'd come, going as fast as ever she was able, cursing the weight that made her sturdy and strong but kept her from the agility and speed Sideswipe was normally capable of. At the same time, she cursed the lightness that made her faster, more maneuverable and better able to adapt herself to different fighting styles but also prevented her from having the sheer power of Grimlock. Bumblebee had every advantage over her except sheer strength, and she didn't have enough of that to compete properly with his experience.

She kept trying to tell herself it was really Lachesis, that the Serpent couldn't have mastered all of Bumblebee's moves just from memory. But, somehow, it didn't feel right. She knew nothing of Bothrop, nothing of what had gone awry in Bumblebee's mind, yet still her every instinct warned her that this was Bumblebee she was racing to fight, and that she stood no chance.

She had been partnered with him to learn from him. He knew so much that she didn't, had so much experience she didn't... was so comfortable with killing when she wasn't. If it was Bumblebee, but somehow changed to work on the side of Lachesis and the Serpents... he would kill her.

Even knowing that, she couldn't bear how slowly she was getting there. She pushed herself to go faster, for her wheels to spin more rapidly, for her weight to just dissolve... to just fly over the asphalt instead of drive. But she was earthbound, as most Autobots were. She could not fly, nor exceed the limits of her design. No matter how hard she pushed, she could only go so fast. And it could never be fast enough. There was no way she could get there fast enough. There was simply too much ground to cover between where she'd started and where she'd left the others. She couldn't-

The sound of the single shot was worse than the thunder. She froze for just a second, stalling out and almost spinning off the road as the shock hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

 _Single shot to the spark._ Instant death.

She recovered control, physically at any rate, and kept going. Inside, she was trembling, felt like she would shake apart. Who had he shot? Who now lay dead because she had failed to prevent this, failed to see the possibility of this, failed to fly like a jet plane to stop it? She felt like her spark would burst before she got there, that she'd never get there, that she would never know.

The not knowing was the worst of it.

Through mind there raced images, clips, incoherent and disorganized memories of Denny, Russell and Fixit. It could have been any of them... or all of them. Bumblebee didn't need a blaster to kill.

She didn't slow down as she left the paved road, ignoring the roughness of the ground, the rocks her tires kicked up that pelted her vulnerable undercarriage. When she thought she was able, she initiated transformation, executing a flip and twist to bleed off the excess momentum.

She slid into the open area and scanned the terrain.

Denny was holding onto Russell to her left, and neither seemed aware of her presence. She looked to her right, at what they were staring at. A smoking black crater had been shot into a large boulder. A rattling, shivering Fixit had plastered himself flat to the rock... but the hole was an inch above his head.

Strongarm struggled to make what she saw make sense. Surely he couldn't have missed? Not at that range. From the scorching around the blast carved in the rock, he must have been standing all of ten feet away, if that. He couldn't have missed a target as big as Fixit. That wasn't possible. Her mind tried to tell her that Fixit was dead, that he'd been shot, that she was seeing only what she wanted to see, that any second she would realize the hole was actually straight through the minicon, that the black scorching was actually the bright splash of spilled energon. But nothing about it changed.

She straightened slowly from her crouch, looking this way and that, cautious, disbelieving.

He hit her from behind like a ton of bricks. There was no telling where he'd concealed himself, but the others didn't even get their warning cries out before Strongarm felt her palms hit the Earth with brutal force. She refused to go all the way down, and the unexpected resistance forced him to complete his maneuver by flipping over her and landing before her on one knee, a fist against the ground.

He buzzed something, but she couldn't understand it. She could guess its meaning only from the burning fury in his dark eyes. She didn't get time to see what was wrong with his eyes before he went after her again, aiming a kick at her face. She managed to lean back and cross her arms to block him, then marshaled her strength and threw him back, reeling a step in reverse to get her feet under her.

He snarled as he landed, body low, slinking like an animal, trying to get behind her again. She rotated slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his, remembering what he'd taught her. His eyes would betray him before any other part of his body did. Right now all they betrayed was a sick, animal anger.

No. More than that. Hate.

She imagined she could feel it coming off him in waves, burning hatred without apparent direction, being turned on anything and everything because he could not locate and destroy its source. She had never seen such malice in his gaze, and it pierced her to the core because she knew it was him. Somehow, she didn't understand how, it was Bumblebee staring back at her, not Lachesis.

But this was not the Bumblebee she knew.

And now she understood why he had missed Fixit. It wasn't an accident, nor a sign of the Bee she knew still being in there. It was bait for a trap. He knew that her fear would make her reckless, that her disbelief would make her slow, throw her off. Her body was already giving her Hell for ignoring the bruising impact. Her systems had been rattled, she had sustained at least cosmetic damage but it felt like the hit had struck deeper, possibly loosening some bolts which, if she wasn't careful, she might strip and render herself helpless and in pain she didn't want to think about.

"Lieutenant, this isn't you," she said, "This can't be you-"

He moved before she finished the sentence. He struck wildly with a right handed punch, and she blocked with relative ease. He shoved against her block, forcing her guarding arms up, opening her mid-section up to a secondary strike with his left hand.

She grunted and crumbled back with the impact, but he didn't let up as he would have in a sparring match. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her to never let her guard down, to always keep watching for the unusual, to never block if there was a possibility of her defenses being circumvented as a result.

 _Take the damage if you can, your armor is there to protect you._

She knew now where the note of disappointment came from when he said things like that. He saw just this scenario playing out. She was instinctively blocking every attack, they came too fast for her to decide which punches she could roll with and which ones would destroy her. She was blocking, but not getting anywhere. She hadn't even managed to throw him back after that first time.

He was forcing her backward, downhill, back toward the road.

The storm arrived, rain flooding down to Earth in a torrent, thunder crashing overhead. Lightning flashed in Bumblebee's eyes, and Strongarm saw what she didn't want to. He wasn't just going to beat her in this fight. He was going to kill her. Nobody was making him do this, nobody was possessing him. He'd never looked more sure in his life.

He _wanted_ to kill her.


	23. Chapter 23

Sideswipe saw Strongarm fall, felt it beneath his tires when she crashed down on the asphalt. Bumblebee stood over her, slowly drawing the weapon he carried. Strongarm didn't seem to fully believe what she was seeing. Truth be told, Sideswipe wasn't sure he did either.

But he didn't let disbelief slow him down. He had been going as fast as he could without reopening the tear in his side, but now he accelerated, leaving Grimlock lumbering behind him alone. The rain made the pavement slick and treacherous, but Sideswipe compensated each time he slid with the ease of one who used to do this kind of dangerous stunt specifically for fun.

A rush ran through him at the speed, the self-inflicted danger of the moment. For a moment, his mind blocked the pain he felt down his left side and let him have this freedom. He felt it when he launched himself from the ground, but by then it didn't matter.

His front bumper crashed into Bumblebee just above the left hip. He didn't hit quite head on, which resulted in Bumblebee losing his balance and spinning before he fell, letting Sideswipe fall clear and slam back onto the pavement with a sickening 'crunch'.

Sideswipe wasted no time, turning, sliding around to face his opponent, bracing against the pain. He let his momentum carry him around in a controlled spin, his engine roaring as he shifted gears and his tires spun uselessly for a second before gaining purchase and rocketing him forward once more.

No more than an hour ago, the idea of attacking in vehicle mode seemed absurd to him. But between then and now, Bumblebee had taught him differently. When Bumblebee had attacked, he had at no point transformed. Strongarm often accused Sideswipe of being a slow learner, but this was one lesson he had taken immediately to spark. Vehicle mode could be used to fight.

But he hadn't learned everything in a single lesson. Bumblebee blocked his second attack, deflecting him with an upraised arm, knocking him sideways. Only by virtue of the hill he crashed into did Sideswipe wind up right side up instead of on his side or upside down.

A mechanical burring sound issued out from Bumblebee, aimed in Sideswipe's direction.

"I have no idea what that means," Sideswipe snarled, forcing anger to course through him, because if he didn't he was afraid the fact that he was fighting his own leader would impress itself on him too strongly for him to go on doing it.

Strongarm had gotten to her feet in the meantime, but she was not drawing her own weapon. She was caught in the hesitation Sideswipe was currently denying. He hoped somehow that she would remain frozen, indecisive, until this was over. Killing Bumblebee would destroy her.

Seeing Sideswipe's wandering focus, Bumblebee growled something else.

"That better mean 'let's go again', because that's sure as Hell what we're gonna do," Sideswipe snarled.

He was unable to launch himself again for a dangerous number of seconds, his back wheels were caught in the mud at the edge of the road, and he sent up a spray of dirt and water to no effect as Bumblebee rounded on him and charged. Had he lost his blaster? Or was he merely putting it away for now? Sideswipe didn't have time to scan the area before his tires finally got a grip.

"Sideswipe, no!" Strongarm yelled out, but Sideswipe knew what he was doing.

He feigned a head on rush, and then dodged to the right at the last second. Bumblebee swung and missed him. But, as usual, Bumblebee had a backup strategy. His fist hit the asphalt, freeing one of his legs to lash out, landing a harsh kick in Sideswipe's already torn side.

Sideswipe yowled in pain, forgetting to control his spin. He spun out, around and around across the rain-slicked pavement before smashing a front fender into a tree off the side of the road. He was stunned a moment, but even when he came to himself it was too late. His tires were stuck in the mud, and he could not transform. Bumblebee had taken hits and maybe even allowed himself to miss with the intention of taking Sideswipe out in one move. And he'd done it. As usual.

Bumblebee buzzed something, but Sideswipe didn't need a translator. He could guess.

 _You should have payed more attention during sparring matches._

He took a step towards Sideswipe, this time prepared to finish him off. A blaster shot pinged off the ground in front of him and Bumblebee turned towards Strongarm, who stood in the center of the road, rain running off her armor in cascading waterfalls, both hands employed to hold her blaster. But she was shaking so badly it was impossible to tell if it was a warning shot she'd fired or if she had missed.

"Don't," she must have felt her voice was too quiet, because she repeated it with more force, " _Don't_."

* * *

" _This. You planned this,"_ Bothrop hissed angrily, _"_ _You believed that, if you were aggressive enough, they would shoot you? If you let blind rage guide you, you'd get yourself into a situation where there was no other possible outcome?"_

The Scout's mind was a churning, angry ocean of unchecked fury, brought to a boil by burning hatred. Bothrop didn't especially want to dive into that. It would be too easy to lose himself in there. The rage kept him out, but it also had kept the Scout on the designed course.

Except this is not what Bothrop intended. The Scout was cunning, why wasn't he using that? He was smarter than to walk into an ambush, but he had managed to force the Autobots into creating one for him to trap himself in. And all for what?

The damned fool had come for the humans, to destroy the humans. But when he got the chance, something had happened. Something had shaken, rattled, and almost broken loose. Whatever lay beneath the surface, he didn't want it getting out. The humans triggered something, the Scout's mind had gone completely black and dark with emotions that there were not adequate words to describe, all of them finding their source in evil and nothing less. Only through supreme effort had Bothrop kept the lid on and the genie tucked safely inside the bottle.

The result had been for a deeper rage to set in, a more fierce anger, a hotter fire burning in his brain. The Scout was going to just burn himself out with it, and this would be over before it began.

Even now one of the Autobots aimed a weapon at his head, the Scout wanted to go on the attack. Bothrop was the only thing restraining him. The Scout didn't even seem aware of death as a possibility, he just wanted to destroy, the urge growing stronger with each passing second.

" _Clever, Scout. I don't know how you did this to yourself, but I do know that not even I did this much damage. You purposefully, willfully, unleashed this monster in yourself, knowing what it would do. I don't know how. But I do know that you've done enough damage for one day."_

The Scout didn't even spare a thought of anger towards him. He ignored Bothrop entirely, except to fight the mental chains he was caught in. On the outside, he was perfectly still, but internally the Scout was screaming in rage, thrashing to free his mind, lashing out in all directions, blindly attacking, fighting to free himself, to finish what he had started.

Bothrop couldn't even pay attention to what was going on outside, he had to focus all of his energies on keeping the Scout from getting loose. If the Scout committed to suicidal action before finishing the job, all of the work the Serpents had done would be for nothing.

All their efforts, all their sacrifices, for nothing.

Bothrop could not allow the Scout to regain control.

* * *

Bumblebee let out a final snarl, then stood perfectly still. But he didn't look at Strongarm, not really. He seemed to be looking right through her, like he didn't even see her. But at least he'd finally stopped.

Now he was still, Strongarm could see that Sideswipe's attack had done more than knock Bumblebee down. The damage inflicted by Grimlock earlier had left Bumblebee fragile, and Sideswipe's hit had caused something beneath the armor to be pressured, or tear or break or something. In any case, a trickle of bright blue was running down Bumblebee's side from a point just below the chest plate, only slightly above where Sideswipe had impacted.

Bumblebee was either unaware of the damage or he simply didn't care, because his hands remained fisted at his sides, his body tensed and ready to strike, but unmoving for the time being. Like a picture, a frozen moment in time. He didn't move, and when Strongarm shifted her weight, she realized his eyes were not even tracking her movement. Like he really was frozen in time.

Or perhaps fighting for control.

Grimlock pounded up the road about then, but Strongarm held up her free hand to stay him. The threat appeared to be neutralized, at least for the moment. Sideswipe managed to negotiate his own freedom from the mud trap he'd been stuck in. Strongarm couldn't help but notice the bright spots of energon which dotted the asphalt as Sideswipe backed up, the gash in his side looked larger now, deeper too.

Strongarm was still trying to process the fact that Sideswipe had actually gone on the attack while in vehicle mode. She'd known it was possible, but never would have thought it of Sideswipe. He wasn't exactly a tank. He was... well... he was really little and not heavily armored. A civilian, Sideswipe's armor was even less durable than Strongarm's, and hers wasn't military grade by any means.

She was so preoccupied by her thoughts that she didn't see Russell until the boy was almost directly in front of the still motionless Bumblebee.

"Russell, get back!" she shouted, but he didn't even turn towards her.

"He won't hurt me," Russell said, almost too quietly to hear over the roar of thunder, "I don't know why, but I don't think he even can."

"What are you talking about?" Strongarm demanded, but it was Fixit who answered.

"When Bumblebee attacked-attacked-attacked-" he clunked himself in the chest and went on, "he only went after me. At least effectively. Even when he picked Russell up and dropped him, he was extremely careful. You know as well as I do how easy it is to damage humans. They're more fragile than anything we have on Cybertron except maybe our very sparks. I do not believe Bumblebee could have avoided harming Russell by accident."

"He sure wasn't shy about hurting the rest of us," Sideswipe remarked, having made limping progress along the road until he was almost at Strongarm's side.

"He wanted to kill us," Strongarm clarified.

"Indeed. He said as much," Fixit said, "Repeatedly."

"But he won't hurt me," Russell said, looking up at Bumblebee, "Will you?"

For a moment, there was no reaction. Then, as though suddenly coming out of a trance, the Lieutenant's body jerked and he slowly looked down at Russell. He cocked his head slightly, as though seeing the boy for the first time. His dark eyes betrayed nothing, his expression was stone.

Strongarm tensed as she saw Bumblebee uncurl one first, then the other, almost as though he hadn't realized he had fingers until just then. But he didn't reach for Russell, instead he turned his attention curiously towards the Autobots, as if they were strangers to him.

The rage that had radiated off him was gone, or at least suppressed.

"That's not Bumblebee," Strongarm said, lifting her blaster a little higher, "Who the Hell are you?"

Bumblebee shifted his weight slightly, but his eyes were tracking Strongarm now. There was something in his gaze that was new, and she was certain it wasn't really Bumblebee staring at her just now. But he said nothing, just stared at her with a perplexed expression.

"The lady asked you a question," Sideswipe growled, revving his engine irritably.

Bumblebee's gaze slipped off her and towards Sideswipe in a lazy sort of way. Strongarm wondered if Sideswipe had seen the difference too, or if he was merely following her lead. She couldn't quite imagine him following her lead anywhere.

"What is it that you want?" Russell drew the thing in Bumblebee's attention back to himself.

A soft, almost breathless growl escaped Bumblebee, his hands began to fist, but then relaxed again.

"I want you all _dead_."

It was Bumblebee's voice. But it was _not_ Bumblebee.

"Well too bad," Strongarm snapped, "We're in control now."

The dark eyes turned to her, and she felt her conviction begin to unravel.

"Are you really?"

Strongarm recognized the danger a second too late.

Perhaps Bee, even in his dangerously altered state would not harm Russell. But Bumblebee was no longer in charge. In one swift motion, the thing in control of Bumblebee had Russell in his hand. An instant later he had assumed vehicle mode, trapping Russell in the back seat with a belt.

"Shoot me," he growled at Strongarm, "and the boy dies too."

He shifted into reverse, turned away from them, then sped off. Grimlock roared after him, but did not pursue. Even the thunder and Grimlock's roar were insufficient to completely block out the heart-wrenching wail of anguish that seemed to rip out of Denny.

Strongarm lowered her weapon, and the movement seemed to drain the last of her strength. She dropped to her knees, feeling numb from the inside out. The rain pounding on her seemed only a distant thing, and she heard only faintly the sound of voices, she couldn't process them.

Bumblebee had warned her. He had given her the responsibility, knowing this could happen. He had trusted her to keep everyone safe. And this was the result. A gentle nudge at her elbow startled her, but she only barely reacted, turning and looking through bleary optics at the blur of red beside her.

"It was not your fault," Sideswipe said, his voice very soft, aching as she was inside, but so gentle, "There was nothing more you could do. You did everything you could."

"It wasn't enough."

"It's not over, Strongarm," he said, still gentle but more firm now, "Russell is not dead. Bumblebee is not dead. _We_ are not dead. And we're not through, Strongarm. We're not done."

She felt the sense of hopelessness and defeat ease, just that little bit. Just enough for her vision to clear, for her to see clearly Sideswipe at her side, a stain of bright blue at the base of his door panel. He was all quiet confidence, an unusual stillness had imposed itself upon his typical restlessness.

"When did you become such a good adviser?" she asked.

"Just now," he replied, only a faint trace of his usual nonchalance in his voice, "when I had to be."

"Thanks, Sideswipe."

"Don't mention it."


	24. Chapter 24

Trying to hold onto the Scout was like wrestling with a scraplet. He was quick as he was vicious, and fast learning Bothrop's every move. They had settled for taking the boy, since the Scout would not kill the human nor allow Bothrop to, but seemed as enraged and confounded by his inability to slay the fragile beast as Bothrop was. The Autobots didn't know how very little power Bothrop wielded over the Scout, and so could not guarantee in their own minds that the human would not be harmed.

Hell, the Scout was so fractious now that Bothrop couldn't have guaranteed it himself.

Bothrop had not counted on having to take such a battering now that he'd finished his exhausting work of twisting the Scout's memories. This was a trial he had not prepared for, and feared he hadn't the energy to fight. What would happen if the Scout eventually bested him for good?

As he was now, the Scout appeared ready to tear apart the whole damn world for little reason other than because he could. But the turning had not been meant to be permanent. The idea was for the Scout to kill all of his friends, then realize what he'd done and shatter as a result. But this... this was more than Bothrop, Lachesis or any of the followers of the late Pit Viper had counted on.

The boy was shouting the usual things captives did. Demanding to be let go, to know where he was being taken and any number of inane things. The Scout did not appear to care, the blazing fury burned hotter all the time, but neither diminished nor burned brighter at the boy's words. Like the Scout didn't even hear him at all, though Bothrop knew he could hear little else through the storm.

How could all their planning have been ripped apart like this? How the Hell was the Scout doing this? Where was he getting all this power from? The power hadn't been in him before... unless... unless.

" _Unless you suppressed it. How? How, Scout?"_

The response was a vicious whiplash of energy, blinding white-hot, searing across his mind. It was the exact same technique he had used to break the Scout in the first place, being thrown right at him. It hit with agonizing accuracy and force and Bothrop found himself writhing in pain, in the dark, outside the madness of the Scout's blood red mind. How? How? _How_?

Bothrop couldn't find an answer. The only thing he found was that what was happening was not possible. That was obviously incorrect. The Scout was ripping into him now, fighting for more permanent control. There was no thought of the Autobots, positive or negative, in his mind now.

 _Lachesis._

The name fell from the protective surge of the Scout's mind like a drop of venom. When and how had the Scout turned back to his rage against her? How was it that the Autobots he was meant to kill had fallen completely out of his conscious mind? How was it that he was hurting Bothrop, suppressing the Serpent as Bothrop had once suppressed him? He couldn't do that. He didn't know how. Couldn't.

 _{Are you afraid, Serpent?}_ he inquired in a voice as cold as it was mechanical, _{You should be.}_

* * *

"Well, go after him!" Denny was practically tearing his hair out, and shouting much louder than necessary.

Strongarm could sympathize with him, but she could not permit herself the luxury of falling apart. Again. Even a glance in Sideswipe's direction said he was completely done in, and would be no help at all should she suffer another emotional crisis. The bot was exhausted, though Fixit had successfully stopped him from leaking energon. He'd actually required assistance getting up the hill. Denny had retreated into Strongarm's cab when she transformed, offering him shelter from the raging storm.

"We don't need to," she said as gently as she could manage, though her raw nerves weren't really up for this punishment, "We know where he's going. Fixit seems convinced he won't hurt Russell."

"Maybe Bumblebee won't, but we all know that what took Rusty _was_ _not_ _him_."

"Bumblebee won't allow harm to come to your son," Strongarm tried to sound as if she was convinced of this herself, but her doubts either showed through or Denny didn't believe her.

"He took my _son_ ," Denny said desperately, as if he believed Strongarm couldn't comprehend what he was worked up about, "I know you guys don't have children, but you've been on Earth long enough, surely, to understand. He's my son, Strongarm. My son."

"I know," Strongarm assured him, "and so does Bumblebee. He knows more about humans than I could ever learn. And he's given more in the defense of Earth than either of us can imagine. I cannot... will not... believe that he is done now, just because some snake got in his head."

Icy silence welled up between them, but Denny shattered it at last.

"Where is he going?"

"Back to the scrapyard."

"You mean where all those snakes are!?" Denny's voice rose an impossible octave, "They'll kill him. God, Strongarm, they're going to eat my son!"

"Bumblebee will not allow it," Strongarm said firmly, forcing herself to believe it, if only for a moment, "He would die before seeing harm come to-"

"What? Strongarm? What?" Denny poked the vehicle mode's radio, sending a discordant blast of musically inclined noise through the air before Strongarm could shut it off.

"Don't do that!"

"Well don't stop mid-sentence. You figured something out. Let me in on it."

"I think... I think the Lieutenant found a way around the brainwashing, or whatever Lachesis did to him. I think... maybe... he planned this. All of this."

"What? Why?"

Strongarm sighed, reluctant to speak her theory aloud, unsure if she was more afraid she was wrong... or that she was right. But she did speak eventually.

"Because he knew it was the only way to break free. Or else destroy himself in the process."

"What are you talking about?"

"That murderous rage, that was him. But it was also him that didn't hurt Russell. He found some way to combine the monster they turned him into with who he really is. And who he really is, is an Autobot. He cannot, and will not, harm a human. He'd die first."

"What's your point?"

"I think the Lieutenant is waging all out war. With himself."

"Well," Denny said thoughtfully, "we should probably go make sure the right him wins."

"Yeah," Strongarm started her engine, clicked on her comm unit, "Grim, Sideswipe, Fixit... we're going back to base. We're taking back what is ours."

"Now?" Fixit demanded, all the ifs, ands and buts in the universe contained with that one word.

The Serpents had torn the team to pieces. Sideswipe was just barely in one piece. Even Grim was weak and unstable. Strongarm herself was battered and their own leader had just tried to kill them. They were hurt, they were disorganized, they were frightened.

Which was exactly what Bumblebee needed to see if he was going to fight for them instead of against them.

"Now," she answered.

* * *

A thousand voices were calling, screaming out, all at once, and there were a thousand different messages contained in each deafening voice. The Serpent was only one voice, with only one message, written in bold, running black letters: _**Submit**_.

Bumblebee barely heard it through all the noise. Visions were crashing through his head, conflicting memories that made no sense, at the center of them all was the Viper, still and powerful and very, very dead. Dead or not, the Viper was there, the ever-present grin frozen on his ugly grill. Bumblebee couldn't outrun him. He already knew that. He couldn't escape the Viper, he didn't bother to try.

Anger, hate, fear, sorrow, pain... they churned together and confused him, and every time the Serpent spoke they all just got stronger. But the boy. The boy's voice, high with fear, brought forth something else. Something Bumblebee couldn't see or understand. It scared him, but it didn't seem to be going to hurt him. Not like everything else did.

Bumblebee felt the road racing beneath him, heard the wind as it whipped against his plating, the rain running down and blurring his vision, thunder crashing, lightning flashing... all of it seemed to be shouting at him, telling him this was wrong, something was wrong, something...

The boy. What was the boy saying? Bumblebee couldn't quite hear him over the internal thunder combined with the external. Everything was just so damned loud and chaotic, bright and dark and suffocating. He couldn't sort it out. It was all too complicated, too burning bright and seething dark. What was the boy saying? He decided he didn't know. It probably didn't matter.

The Serpent said something. He'd said that Bumblebee had done this to himself. Whatever this was. Bumblebee didn't remember his mind being manipulated, it was just a fragmented memory drenched in pain and drowned in fire, he couldn't access it, just like he couldn't access most of his memories. The more he tried, the more chaotic and crowded his mind got, like all the memories and all possible variations of them were trying to get in. They were all coming, all at once. That's what the voices were, and it wasn't a thousand of them. He couldn't count their number, or even catch a word they were saying. It was just noise. All of it. Just noise.

He decided he had to shut it out. Shut it down. Put it away. Make it go away.

The boy. Listen. Listen to the boy. That was his way out. He could feel it, but he didn't understand it. It didn't matter. He didn't need to understand. He was here now, he couldn't go back. Only forward. The boy's voice. His words. That was the way forward. He didn't need to know where it would lead. Just accept it. Just accept it and go.

"-me go! Bumblebee, stop! Stop right now!"

Crashing reality came clear and he could breathe again. The boy was angry. He was scared. He didn't want to be here. Bumblebee couldn't remember why. The Serpent had sat on that memory, coiled itself around the images and squeezed the life out of them. Damn that beast. Damn it to Hell.

 _Focus. The boy. Listen to him._

* * *

Russell lurched in his seat when Bumblebee did a full, abrupt stop. He was glad of the harness he was entangled in. Without it, he would have pitched forward between the front seats, probably breaking his head open on the windshield. What he didn't understand was why Bumblebee had stopped.

They were halfway through the middle of nowhere, on the right side of a deserted highway. The rain was still pouring, there wasn't another car in sight and Russell had already yelled until his throat was sore (proving in the process that Bumblebee wasn't even listening to him).

Hills dotted with trees rolled away from the road on one side, a flat plain decorated with rain-flattened shrubs was on the other. Not a fence or a building in sight. Why had they stopped?

More out of thoroughness than the actual expectation of being able to, he tried to free himself from the seat belt. It was stuck tight, as expected. He sighed in a mixture of fear and exasperation, and sat back against the seat cover, trying to still his shaking and gather something akin to a thought.

The Autobot made a sibilant noise that Russell had come to recognize as some form of speech only a few (like Fixit) understood. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, except that it was a question.

He spent a few seconds trying to decipher its meaning, then gave up.

"I don't know what you want. What are you saying?"

A snarl, another lurch, this time knocking him back against his seat as Bumblebee launched forward, issuing a steady stream of thrumming, frenetic noises that failed to become words. As he increased speed, the intensity of his tirade notched up, until it was a single, steady note of frustration and the scenery outside was whipping by at a dizzying speed.

"Bumblebee, I don't understand what you want! Talk to me! Bumblebee, stop!"

The brakes screeched. Bumblebee had hit them so hard smoke tried in vain to flow past in a cloud. The rain drove it into the ground in a second, but Russell could guess a couple black lines marred the road.

His heart thundered in his ears. Bumblebee had stopped... because Russell told him to? He decided that now was not the time to wonder why, as whatever held Bumblebee in check now hadn't been there before and might be gone in an instant. So he decided to press his luck.

"Let me out," the door popped open obediently, the belt unlatched.

Russell felt a twinge of suspicion. Even to his eyes, what Bumblebee was doing was inconsistent, unpredictable, and he didn't fully trust that he was really free to go, even as he slid across the back seat and reached out until his shoe touched the wet pavement. He hesitated, then hopped the rest of the way out, where it felt like he was literally being beaten on by the rain.

A crash of thunder made him jump, but Bumblebee didn't so much as twitch in response. He just sat there, door hanging open, letting the rain be blown into his interior. Russell felt the impulse to shut the door, as if this was a regular car. As if the rain could do anything to Bumblebee.

But he stayed the impulse, looking up and down the road instead. No cars were coming. But that was okay. He just had to start back the way they'd come, and Strongarm would undoubtedly find him along the way. No way would she abandon him completely. Nor the others, but it was her he expected, probably with his dad riding shotgun, however ridiculous that was.

He took a step in that direction, and felt his shoe sink into something not water. Looking down, he was momentarily confused by the bright blue, semi-thick fluid he found there. Then a drop tumbled down and landed in the small puddle. He looked up to where it had fallen from. Bumblebee. He finally got it.

Energon. Bumblebee was bleeding, like Sideswipe had.

 _He needs me,_ Russell realized, though he wasn't sure what he could do in the present situation.

He knew whatever had given him control over Bumblebee was probably only temporary, that the monster that had kidnapped him would surface at any second. But he couldn't do it. He just couldn't leave Bumblebee. Not right now.

 _Bumblebee needs me._

He climbed back in the car, and shut the door on the rain.


	25. Chapter 25

Lachesis lifted her slender head at the sight of Bumblebee returning. She had not expected him to return. He had no reason to come back. Surely he couldn't have completed his mission so quickly? Surely he wouldn't have returned if he had? Even if he hadn't come apart at once, Bothrop would have undone the damage, so that the Scout could see the truth. He shouldn't have come back.

She realized she was sticking on that point, and so let it drop.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, trying to sound neutral, "What happened?"

"In Earth terms," the Scout's voice, but Bothrop's essence, "he went batshit crazy."

Lachesis sorted through her list of Earth expressions. Bothrop had spent more time studying their hunting ground than she had, and always had a flair for languages and dialects. He picked up slang terms wherever he went. The ease with which he picked up lingo and what the socially acceptable response to a given situation was in any group had allowed him to excel at spying during the war. Despite speaking the same language, Autobots and Decepticons did not talk alike.

She decided to dismiss the slang term. Crazy seemed sufficient.

"What, exactly, did he do?" Lachesis wanted to know.

A window rolled down, and Lachesis spotted the human sitting inside the vehicle. She tilted her head, her hood spreading slightly, in a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"He tried to kill everyone," Bothrop said, "Including himself."

Lachesis couldn't see why that was a problem, nor did the statement adequately explain the human's presence. She did notice, however, that the Scout was injured. That must be why Bothrop had brought him in. It wouldn't do for the Scout do die before he'd finished his assigned task.

"Kidnapping the human was my only way out," Bothrop said, "They would have killed him otherwise. He attacked a loner, drawing away the others, intending to kill the humans first. Then... he stalled out. Before the end, he had himself surrounded by Autobots, each angry enough to kill him. There was no choice. I couldn't allow him to die then and there."

"Of course you couldn't," Lachesis said understandingly, "But why is the human here? And alive?"

"The human has a strange effect on him. He... he won't allow me to kill it," there was shame in Bothrop's voice at the admission, "But it also awakens a rage in him, a deeper desire to kill."

"And what is he doing now?" Lachesis inquired.

"He has withdrawn from consciousness. The effort it took to give the human a chance to escape exhausted him at least," Lachesis felt her eyes flash as she registered the meaning behind Bothrop's words; realizing that he had lost all control of the Scout, however briefly.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind. The Scout was in control. She dismissed it at once as absolutely absurd. There was no possible way the Scout could get the better of Bothrop. Bothrop had the training, the conditioning, the experience. The Scout had nothing to fight back with, he'd proven that already.

"If the Scout is subdued-"

Bothrop finished the question for her, "-why not kill the human? Yes, I thought of that. But I sense that the Scout would never allow that. He is not so completely beyond touch with reality to not notice. Besides which, his responses to the human intrigue me; as does the human himself."

"How so?" Lachesis wanted to know.

"The human could have escaped. The Scout gave him the opportunity. But it did not. It has no attack or defense capabilities, no ability to fight back at all. A careless movement on the part of any one of us could result in its instant death. Yet still it stayed, when it had no reason to."

"Curious," Lachesis said, her tone betraying the fact that she was anything but.

Humans and Earth did not interest her much. She suspected that Bothrop's interest had probably developed during all of those drives in the bodies of other Serpents, using the open road to test his ability to control them, to force them to go where he wanted, when he wanted. He had seen many things that she had not, and had shared only a few with her while he waited in her mind.

Perhaps, she reflected, he might have shared more had she shown an iota of interest in anything he showed her. Maybe if she had, they might have been able to be closer, to get to know each other more, so that every moment they spent together might have had more meaning.

It was too late for that now.

"Why would he let you bring it here?" Lachesis wanted to know, "Knowing a den of us was waiting. Even should he retake control-" she paused, trying not to think too much about that horrible possibility, "-he could not kill all of us. He could not even face me alone. Why would he permit you to risk the human's life, if he values it so highly even now?"

"Only a part of him does," Bothrop replied evenly, "Moreover, he appears to be following a designed path, executing a plan he created but no longer consciously remembers."

"And that plan involves walking into our midst with the thing he appears to value most?"

"He said that this, the human, was the spark. It didn't make any sense at the time, but it was obvious on their faces how much they care for the human. They love it as if it was one of them. More even. They would do _anything_ to protect it. Including coming right back here."

"Where we can disarm them, control everything, make sure that they do not escape."

"And get front row seats to the show in the process," Bothrop added, "Not that he cares about that."

"Perhaps not. But he does know that we will restrain them if they come here. That we will have to. He is only one, and he is damaged, physically wounded and mentally in chaos."

"But always clever," Bothrop said, "He still wants them all dead, I can feel it. But he is not as emptily angry as when he started. His cleverness is beginning to assert itself above his hate."

Lachesis smiled comfortably, "It won't be long now."

"No," Bothrop agreed, "It won't be long at all."

* * *

Strongarm had done her best to explain everything Bumblebee had told her about Pit Viper. She felt almost like she was betraying his confidence, telling everyone something he had shared only with her. But she had the same reason for telling them that he'd had for telling her in the first place. It was necessary that they understand what they were facing, and why. She also needed them to know everything that she did to know why she thought they -in their wounded state- stood a chance.

As she told the story, it became obvious that there were details Bumblebee had left out. None of them were important though. She knew enough. Whatever Bumblebee hadn't told her wasn't for her to speculate on, so she stuck to what he had told her. It seemed to be going right past Grimlock, riding behind her in the trailer. Fixit seemed to not be absorbing any of it, sitting in the cab next to Denny. But Sideswipe, driving slowly and unevenly beside her, seemed to be getting it all. Maybe even understanding it better than she did, though he said nothing. Only Denny interrupted, and that was solely because he didn't know much Cybertronian history, so she had to stop and explain some things in order for the story to entirely make sense to him.

"So basically," Sideswipe said when she'd finished, "Megatron was lied to and in turn betrayed this Pit Viper character. The Viper captured Bumblebee as a peace offering, one which Megatron failed to accept. Deciding Megatron was the megalomaniac moron he was, Pit Viper set out to get revenge by... wait, what now?"

"Not just revenge. He intended to destroy both Autobots and Decepticons, but he started with the Lieutenant, a Scout at the time. As I understand it, he was angry about Megatron failing to kill Bumblebee, or Bumblebee not dying... or something. The Lieutenant was a little vague on that. I'm not sure he knows, he didn't seem to think Pit Viper fully understood it either."

"So he came here," Sideswipe continued, "convinced Bumblebee that he had, in fact, killed a human-"

"In defense of another human, I forget the name he gave."

"-in defense of another human," Sideswipe amended, "and that, somehow, drove him away from the Autobots. Once isolated, he was..." Sideswipe trailed off, either unable to say it or else believe it.

Bumblebee had explained, in coldly factual language, that he had been cut off from the Autobots, and then tormented by Pit Viper, who attempted to convince him that he had, in fact, known a human was in the vehicle he attacked, that he had intentionally killed a human and had actually enjoyed the experience on some level. Strongarm was unclear on how that was meant to turn Bumblebee against the Autobots or the Decepticons, but Bumblebee had been a bit vague on that part of the story.

Basically, Pit Viper had been telling him things when he was in great emotional, and eventually physical, distress. Talking to him, tormenting him, driving him to the brink of insanity. It seemed that Pit Viper's progeny had succeeded in pushing him over the edge, but Strongarm didn't say that.

"But... what was the point of that... _any_ of that?" Sideswipe asked.

"Exactly."

Sideswipe's engine actually cut out for a moment and he coasted a few feet before it came back on. She wasn't sure if that was damage or confusion. Either way, she said nothing about it.

"I don't get it," Grimlock admitted, speaking for the first time.

"Me neither," Denny said.

"These are followers of Pit Viper. They want to kill the Lieutenant because he killed their master."

"Okay," Sideswipe said, "We get that."

"But they're all about complex revenge plots, manipulation and mental anguish."

"That's obvious."

"So they want the Lieutenant to kill us first."

"Sure."

"But it's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason it didn't work last time."

"Which is?"

Strongarm sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it to this, the slow class.

"Look, one reason they needed to twist his mind instead of just possessing him was to make sure he did everything by himself. But obviously that backfired."

"We all saw _that_ ," Sideswipe told her, sounding as irritated as she was beginning to feel.

"They tried to turn him into one of them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning two things. One, he wants to hurt us before he kills us."

"Attacking the humans is a good way to do that," Sideswipe acknowledged.

"Two, he has no greater purpose than to destroy us."

"So?"

"Bumblebee can't do that."

"He sure as Hell tried," Denny supplied.

"When was the last time you saw him do anything without a reason?"

"Never," Sideswipe said.

"Without thinking?"

"When Quillfire shot him," Grimlock answered.

"Which is not relevant right now," Strongarm grumbled.

"Sorry," Grimlock looked crestfallen in her rear view mirror.

"Bumblebee _needs_ a purpose. A reason, even a flimsy one. Which is the one thing they couldn't give him, because the damned Serpents haven't got anything better than following in their master's footsteps, which led him straight into an early grave. Bumblebee, no matter how they've twisted him," her insides churned at the thought each time she spoke it, but she pressed on, "is smart enough to see that."

"So what? It sure didn't seem to even slow him down when he went after us," Sideswipe reminded her.

"In addition to being a Scout during the war, Bumblebee was also a Guardian," as the others remained silent, Strongarm explained, calling to mind her history lessons, "He was one of three, each assigned to guard a very special human. It was the human he guarded that came under attack by Pit Viper."

"What's the difference?" Sideswipe wondered, "One human or another, they're still humans and we're Autobots, and we protect them. That's kind of our whole thing."

"But to defend the life of one human at the expense of another?"

"No," Sideswipe replied firmly, "Bee's pretty clear on that. We don't meddle in human affairs."

"And why not?" Strongarm asked.

"Well... because... because... I don't actually know."

"Our power is too easy for us to abuse. Any one of us could destroy an entire city, every building, every person, in an afternoon and still have energy left to spare."

"Alright, I'll give you that. But what's that got to do with-"

"Bumblebee valued the life of that boy above his own, above his team, above his own self-imposed codes of behavior. That's not memory. That's not programming. That's in the spark. And that's the one thing in him that they can't touch. He's an Autobot in there, and we protect those who cannot protect themselves. We do not attack the helpless, the defenseless, the weak. We defend them."

"You're hoping he'll see the damage he's inflicted, and that'll snap him out of it," Sideswipe said flatly.

It sounded outlandish, nonsensical even. When he put it that way, Strongarm's hope seemed to wither. It was foolish to think it could be that easy. It was idiotic especially to walk into a nest of vipers. Even if they got Bumblebee back, what could he do to protect them, or they him? This was suicide.

"You don't have to come," Strongarm said, "But I can't... I can't let him die that way."

"You think we can?" Grimlock spoke up, a touch of ferocity to his voice, "He gave me a chance. Gave all of us a chance. A purpose. A direction. He gave us ourselves. If we lose him, we lose us."

"Grim's right," Sideswipe added, "If he goes down, we all do, whether we're there to see him fall or not. If we're going to die, it damn well better be at the hands of our enemies, not our friends."


	26. Chapter 26

Bumblebee was faintly aware of the voices beyond his private darkness. But, for the moment, he ignored them. The boy was quiet, but safe enough for now. Bee needed to try and sort through the conflicting thoughts and emotions playing through him, think now while he had the time.

The rage that had flooded through him wasn't gone, merely tempered now by his mind beginning to work. He had not been processing before, just attacking, hunting, trying to kill. He was no longer sure why, perhaps he never had been. Today, the day before, and many others days like them were hazy, it was like every instant of them was stored in a different part of his memory, and he could only access a few fragments at a time. He'd come to realize that this was true of every memory.

He felt like, if he could just piece enough of them together, he could figure out where the anger was coming from. Or, at least, find a way of turning down the heat burning him from inside. The most forceful fragments, shattered memories slashing through the dark and cutting like blades of sharp silver, they were instants of violence, death, pain. But each was like a still image, he couldn't go forward or backward, nor find the memory of associated moments. If he tried, he would be met with another slashing, cutting memory, unrelated to the last save for its featured content of violence.

The emotions conjured by the images were no less confusing. He felt hate, anger, fear, pain, betrayal, grief, but they were like a description beneath a photograph, poorly and inadequately trying to explain a reality that had escaped forever even as its ghost was caught in time by a sudden flash. They felt like an interpretation of someone else's picture, incomplete and lacking... something.

It was hard to push through them. They each cut so deeply and he felt the emotions tear into him like some external force breaking in. They were so disorganized, like they'd all just been shoved into the box of his mind without regard for their order or how it might damage them, bending and creasing, lines across the pictures. It was so... messy. His mind wasn't like this normally. It couldn't be.

 _Nobody's mind is like this._

He flinched at the attention his coherently worded thought draw from the Serpent. The voice in his head. It was a snake. It wasn't his, it didn't belong in here. That knowledge, plucked from the disastrous clutter of his mind, seemed to draw him almost directly to the truth, only he couldn't quite get there.

"Stop it, you're hurting her!" the boy's shout cut right through all of Bumblebee's sorting.

He drifted up from the dark, having to fight his way to reality because the Serpent was trying to block him out. He let the fury burn hotter, let it radiate from his core, knowing if it burned hot enough the Serpent wouldn't be able to take it. But Bumblebee himself could. It was burning him too, but he did not fear it as the Serpent did. This rage was his, existed somewhere bright inside him and, if it burned, at least he knew it was real and part of him and not some outside force trying to get in.

With a hiss, the Serpent withdrew the coils of its will, flinching away from the white-hot fury.

Bumblebee burst clear of the darkness, only to find himself pressed down by another. It was night, but the storm still raged on, the lightning brighter, the thunder deeper, the rain just the same. He did not remember returning to the scrapyard, but that did not concern him at present.

"Stop hurting her!" the boy was shouting again, and Bumblebee searched the area for the 'her'.

The she-Autobot, whose name stalked at the edges of memory like an angry beast. She was on the ground, her limbs caught and held outstretched away from her by four Serpents. A fifth had itself twisted around her body, its head maddeningly close to her face.

The flames rose higher in the back of his mind, it felt like fireworks in his head. He shook them back, struggling for sanity, clinging to his tiny life-raft of thought, knowing that if he lost it... well, actually he didn't know. But it seemed vitally important that he untie the knots in his brain before taking action.

Besides, this fury was directed at the Serpents holding the Autobot, where minutes or hours before it had been focused wholly on her. He had wanted to _destroy_ her, piece by piece. That hadn't changed... it was just... being overruled... by itself. He ruthlessly forced the confusion back into its corner with his rage, which was trying to burn out of all control. He knew it was chewing up the memory fragments he was trying to put together, but there was no time to sort his internal conflicts just now.

The Serpent was trying to say something, to assert itself. But it was afraid. He wasn't.

With a low growl, he initiated transformation, ignoring the way his gears creaked and protested. He went slower than usual, though he couldn't entirely remember what he normally did... it just felt slow, cautious. The Serpent was bucking around, trying to take control, and it was distracting him. If he was going too fast, he could easily miss the moment when he needed to move the boy to avoid crushing him in this process. When it was complete, the boy appeared to have fallen out and landed in the mud, but that's exactly where Bumblebee had intentionally deposited him before climbing to his feet.

"Stop!" the crisp, sharp command exploded across the scrapyard with the force of a hurricane.

Bumblebee actually swayed slightly, the sound of the voice sent a head-splitting confliction through him as love and hate, fury and fear crashed over one another in violent discord.

 _Lachesis_.

He knew her name now, as he knew his own. She slid from the shadows, always both larger and smaller than he remembered her, radiating her absolute calm, absolute power, absolute control. The fiercely opposing ways he felt about that shook him, nearly caused him to lose his physical balance and fall. The Serpent in his head was trying to yell something, but he ignored it.

Lachesis glided towards the downed Autobot, her head carried high, her hood only slightly unfurled. She was more delighted than upset, but she was trying to mask her amusement. The Autobot had done something she had expected... planned for.

Bumblebee felt thin phantoms press at his mind, the conversation between her and the Serpent in his head when he'd arrived. He had heard it as though underwater, garbled, distant, irrelevant. It seemed relevant enough now, only he couldn't reach it. He'd become interested too late.

Lachesis stopped in front of the Autobot, her head lowered almost to the Autobot's level. Her eyes seemed to glow with pleasure. The Autobot glared back, never looking quite so angry as she did when she was trying not to show that she was afraid. Bumblebee didn't know why he knew with one look that she was actually scared to death, when he couldn't even remember her name just now, but he did.

He didn't like seeing her helpless on the ground. Scared, vulnerable. Anger boiled hotter, until he imagined he could feel it scalding him, melting him from inside. But he stood motionless. For now.

That was his control. Self-control.

That was what he had found since he awoke with this flame lit in his chest. He hadn't had that when he'd first awakened. But it felt familiar, like he had known it before, like self-control and he were somehow old friends, or at least more than passing acquaintances. Anger in him flowed into a kind of resentment, like the fury itself was a living entity and self-control was its bitterest, most hated enemy. But he continued to ignore it, and it stalked helplessly at the back of his mind, chained until he released it, but blocking the Serpent from the main part of his mind.

"Bothrop was right," Lachesis whispered, ducking her face close to the Autobot, who writhed in the grip of the Serpents, trying to lean away from her as the silver tongue licked out, briefly caressing the side of the Autobot's face, "I should never have doubted him."

 _Bothrop_.

The voice in his head. Of course.

"Get off me," the Autobot snarled, then appeared to check herself, reining in the disgust she clearly had for Lachesis and her kind, "I didn't come here to reason with _you_."

"Reason?" Lachesis was barely able to withhold her laughter as her head went up at the sound of the word, "Reason has naught to do with it, child. Not for him," Bumblebee felt a tingle at the realization that the 'him' in question was... well, himself, "No, child, you can't reason with him," she shook her head, swaying her entire body as she did so, "There are things at work here you do not understand."

"Like revenge?" She, the Autobot, spat the word as if it were poisonous, as if it burned her mouth even as she spoke and she couldn't be rid of it fast enough.

It had an electrifying impact on Bumblebee's mind, but he couldn't be sure which part of him was reacting without submerging into his own thoughts again and trying to organize them. He couldn't do that right now. He had to keep his focus, keep his control, hold on until the world stopped spinning.

" _Why?"_ the word must have had more impact than he'd realized, because now the Serpent had his internal ear again and was whispering, always whispering, the words a kind of venom in themselves, _"_ _Why fight, when you know it will only bring you pain?"_

Bothrop wasn't talking about Bumblebee's desire to throttle every last person here. He was referring to the internal war that was raging inside of him, desire versus control, want and need and things he didn't even have names for crashing through him, breaking him up inside, sending his shattered memories spinning out into the dark spaces of his mind, scattering them, making the task of gathering them up and forcing them to form some kind of sensible picture of his life that much more difficult.

 _That_ was the fight Bothrop was referring to.

He realized the Serpent was trying to snap the chain Bumblebee's mindless, blood-thirsty rage was tethered by. The Serpent, for whatever reason, wanted him to tear apart the world, to destroy... even though it was the Serpent who'd stopped him from doing just that earlier. Blasted, contradictory thing.

He realized he'd missed some portion of the exchange between Lachesis and the Autobot. The Autobot must have said something, because Lachesis suddenly darted forward and wrapped a coil around the Autobot's throat. Not a deadly hold for a Cybertronian, but her fangs flashed when lightning struck, bare inches from the Autobot's face. Deadly venom, clear as rainwater, dripped from the tip of her broken fang, and again from her whole one.

The anger almost broke free on its own, suddenly Bothrop was attempting to help Bumblebee hold it. It was directed wholly at Lachesis. If it got loose, Bumblebee would kill her. He _wanted_ to kill her.

 _Why?_ It was Bothrop's question, but now some portion of Bumblebee was echoing it. _Why?_

His right hand jerked spasmodically, but it didn't accomplish whatever it was trying to do. He wasn't even sure in that moment just who had control of it, or if anyone did. It seemed almost like it moved on its own. He was quick to fist it, pull it to his side, get it under control, stop it from betraying him.

"Fortunately for you," Lachesis hissed in the Autobot's ear, "We have other plans for you already."

She slid away from the Autobot, a haughty look on her face.

"Bring the others, keep them restrained," Lachesis didn't point her head at anyone in particular, but Serpents scrambled to do her bidding, and a moment later it was clear what she'd meant.

It took about a dozen Serpents to drag in the struggling dinobot, only two the badly damaged red one in vehicle mode, one each for the human adult and the minicon. The human was flailing in the jaws of a Serpent, looking wildly around through the eyes of a crazy person, until he finally lit on the boy. All the struggle seemed to drain out of him, relief was in every line of his body as he let the snake carry him without any further struggling or protest. The sight of the boy was all he'd craved.

 _Why?_

The question felt like it had punched him and Bumblebee shook his head as if that would help clear it. The question seemed to be trying to drown out everything else, and seemed like it might even have the strength to do just that. Even the anger was quelled by the power of that one, single word.

 _WHY?_

It was like a shot through the spark that time. He gasped, and fell forward onto his knees, surprised to find himself shaking so hard he was rattling. He put a hand against the ground to steady himself, feeling the mud slip into the gaps in his armor even as the rain water tried to wash it all away.

The anger was straining again, the chain felt like it was choking him, at once too strong and not strong enough. He was losing it. The question fired like a bullet was releasing it all, everything he'd worked so hard to put under lock down until he could understand it. It was going to break through the walls, snap the chains, burn, burn... burn it all down, burn it to the ground. That question was going to destroy him. And he wasn't at all certain what would be taking his place. _That_ terrified him.

"Bothrop, are you prepared?" Lachesis voice came from a terrible distance, the question sounding like a dirge, and he heard himself reply that he was, and watched in a Hell of confusion as she turned her face upon the Serpents holding down the she-Autobot, whose expression was etched with pain as she looked at him... him, not Lachesis... not anything else... just him, "Release her."

As she spoke the words, Bumblebee realized too late that he had lost his control. Bothrop had broken the chain, the monster roared and raced free, and he felt it crush him beneath it as it raged towards the Autobot on the ground, she, the one who was looking at him, the only one who seemed to see him, the one who felt pain because of him. The monster wanted to devour her, and he could do nothing to hold it back. She was going to die because of him, and he didn't even know her name.

 _ **WHY?**_


	27. Chapter 27

Even knowing the blow was coming did nothing to prepare Strongarm for it. She felt something snap, she wasn't sure what, and then she struck against something hard with her back. She slid down, but hadn't reached the ground by the time she was forcibly yanked from the ground and thrown. She cried out as her left shoulder took the full force of the impact and something inside her broke loose.

Through blurring, rain-soaked vision she saw Bumblebee turn, heard his growl low as thunder. Lightning blazed across the sky, doing nothing to dispel the shadows lurking in his eyes. He was going to kill her. She was wrong. She had miscalculated. This mistake would be her last. She closed her eyes, waiting for the next hit. But that devastating punch never touched her.

When she opened her eyes to find out why the hit had missed her, she saw immediately what had happened. Somehow, Sideswipe -battered, bloodied Sideswipe- had managed to break free, transform – and take the hit for her. Of course he had. It was the very definition of being an Autobot. He knew he could not fight, so he did the only thing he could. He protected her with his body, the only thing he had.

She stifled a whimper as he fell on the ground in front of her, collapsed into his pain, what precious little energon he had left running freely again. It sparked anger in her, bright enough to match that which she saw in the eyes of Bumblebee, her lieutenant, her leader... a killer.

Fire rushed through her veins, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't even remember why she had come here in the first place. Her vision turned red and, with an inarticulate cry of war, she launched herself from the ground, straight up at Bumblebee, every ounce of rage she had flowing into the movement, giving her the power her body could not supply on its own.

She couldn't believe she'd been so naïve. That she'd led the team here, that they'd actually gone along with such a foolish, childish plan. You didn't defeat evil by submitting to it. You fought it with every fiber of your being, used every weapon you had and either beat it or died trying. She couldn't believe that she'd forgotten what Bumblebee had taught her, even for a second.

She propelled him backward until he slammed into the wall of the control room. The concrete groaned behind him, but she had her eyes locked on his, her own blazing fury reflecting right back at her. She didn't notice or care that her left arm hung useless at her side, she had her right across his chest and she felt almost like she could just burn him to ash by looking at him if she willed it. Her rage was that unreasoning, that powerful.

"I see now what you were afraid of," she growled under her breath, the words meant solely for him.

He stood still, but she didn't know if he was listening. She didn't even care if he was. She had to say it for her own sake, not for his, or else this rage inside would boil her alive and she'd be as bad as he was.

"You _made_ this team. You built it up with your own two hands," her voice lowered dangerously, "But you gave it to me to guard, and I will _die_ before I let you destroy it. Do you understand me?!"

He gave no sign of having heard, but continued to stare through a haze of red at her.

"This is _my_ team to protect, and I'll kill you if I have to. Now you have to make a choice," she shook him, or tried to but he didn't move, and she had to shout above the thunder to be heard, "Who are you!?"

He looked at her finally then, and she imagined she could hear it in the moment that he shattered. Just broke apart. Like a puppet with cut strings, he slumped forward, and she found herself not strong enough to hold him up. His eyes seemed to film over, but were still looking at her as she tried to ease him down. She was on her knees when she heard a voice, his voice, almost too quiet to hear.

"Strongarm. Your name is Strongarm."

The light went out and he seemed to fold in on himself. The rain made him slippery and he fell from her grip, hitting the ground hard. Too hard. Completely limp and lifeless, his eyes totally dark.

"Bothrop!"

Strongarm heard Lachesis shout as if from a great distance, she was numb to the Serpents that dragged her back, and she only dimly realized that Grimlock had let out a trumpeting roar, following her lead, accepting the abrupt change in plan as if she'd explained it to him beforehand. She saw in the corner of her eye that the Serpents were piling on him, forcing him to the ground, using their weight to bring him down even as he thrashed, jaws snapping, teeth tearing through anything they made contact with. The Serpents holding Denny and Fixit had dropped them in favor of securing the dinobot. Denny ran to Russell, who hadn't moved from where Bee had dropped him; Fixit went for Sideswipe, and Strongarm tried to force her way through the grief to tell him that Sideswipe was dead, there was nothing left that could be done for him. They were all dead.

But the words wouldn't come, and her vision swam as her eyes dragged themselves back to Bumblebee, motionless on the ground, as if her words alone had been enough to kill him. Lachesis was curled around him, calling that name again, and some part of Strongarm registered that Bothrop must be the personality which had invaded Bumblebee's mind and done... whatever the Hell it had done to him.

She had never thought Cybertronians lacked anything, never given a second thought to the differences between humans and robots. But now she felt a shudder, a surge inside her, and there was no release for it. Her body tried to scream, but no sound was able to escape the strangling sensation inside.

She wished for the first time -so hard she felt as if she would break with longing- that she could cry.

The world fell silent, she no longer even heard the thunder even as it vibrated through the air and shook through her. She didn't hear Fixit protest in loud voice as a Serpent caught him up in its jaws and hauled him away from Sideswipe, didn't hear anything Denny said when a Serpent swept around him and Russell and glared at him with lifted head and bared fangs, even became deaf to Lachesis as the vile bitch tucked her head against Bumblebee's neck and slid her silken tongue across the rain drops that had gathered there.

All she could hear was the drumming of her own spark, and all she felt was the pain squeezing tight around it, until even its beat fell away and she heard and felt nothing more.

She wondered if it was possible to die of grief.

* * *

Thunder. Rain. Lightning. Shadows.

Sideswipe wasn't sure he was alive. He wasn't sure he could move. He only had the feeling that the world had suddenly gone quiet, dark and still and he should probably find out why. In fact, it was vitally important that he find out why. It mattered more than anything in the world why.

He was lying on his back, staring up at the black sky, silvery droplets of rain falling straight down at him, lightning turning everything pure white, then letting shadows take hold once more. Nobody noticed when he turned slowly onto his side, which seemed to be as much as he could manage.

He knew pain should be shooting through him from one end to the other, but he didn't feel a thing except the bottom dropping out of his world when he took in reality as it stood now.

Strongarm knelt without struggle, held by a couple of Serpents. Grimlock lay helpless beneath a couple dozen. And Bumblebee... Bumblebee looked dead. Just flat, straight up dead. Sideswipe couldn't reconcile that. He couldn't make it compute. He could not... could _not_ accept it as reality.

He struggled to sit up, but failed and fell back onto his side. Nobody noticed, least of all the lady snake, who appeared to be cooing in Bumblebee's ear, though Sideswipe couldn't hear through the rushing of his own energon what it was she was saying, and he didn't much care.

He slid a hand to his bleeding side, where Bumblebee had hit him most recently. He didn't check if he was leaking again. He knew he was. He knew this could be the last time he ever would. He knew it. But he refused to believe it, to accept it. This was not over. They were _not_ done.

"We are not through," he was surprised by how difficult it was to speak, how painfully his voice rattled, "We are not done," he fought again to sit up, and this time manage to pull himself onto his knees.

Lachesis was the first to raise her head, gazing at him with dispassionate curiosity.

He stared right back at her, trying to gather the strength to actually stand, but not sure where he could possibly hope to gather it _from_. He had already pushed past exhaustion, and gone on into unknown territory.

Yet he was still alive. They were _all_ still alive. Which meant that he was not done. _They_ were not done.

Strongarm turned her head, trying to look at him, but she could only get a glimpse with the way she was being held. She looked... surprised. Relieved. He didn't understand why, though some portion of him realized she was probably as startled to find out he was alive as he was.

Bumblebee had not pulled his punch. Not even a little.

Sideswipe didn't regret what he'd chosen to do, even though it probably hurt him more than it would've hurt Strongarm. She had heavier armor, and was less damaged to begin with. But he couldn't just take it. He could not stand by and watch Bumblebee try to kill her. He couldn't stand for it to happen to her. Or to Bumblebee. He'd had to stop it, and had done so in the only way he could.

He felt a twinge of pride at the fact that he had still been following Strongarm's plan at the time. Or maybe he was just getting delirious. Either way, he supposed it didn't matter now.

It was clear that Strongarm's plan had fallen apart, and she had no other to replace it with. Grimlock was on the ground, snarling inarticulately, trying to get his jaws open so he could resume snapping at anything that moved, but the Serpents were holding him down with fierce determination, or perhaps fear. Were they afraid? They hadn't been before. Was it possible they were now?

Lachesis disentangled herself from Bumblebee's limp form. Her eyes betrayed none of the concern she had been expressing previously. Now they just burned, shining with the same anger which had its hooks deep into Bumblebee. She slid towards Sideswipe as a cat would advance on a mouse.

"No, Autobot," she hissed, and her voice alone was enough to fill the space between them, "You _are_ done. This has gone on quite long enough."

She didn't have to spread her hood, or bare her fangs. He knew her intention as she slipped towards him, her movements silken, effortless across the sheen of water atop the thick mud. Sideswipe couldn't move any more than he had, and found himself staring at the silver tear lines at the corner of Lachesis' eyes, just staring at the shimmering metal there, the way rain drops rolled down the shallow grooves in a mockery of actual tears.

She stopped in front of him, carefully slipping her body into coils around her, lifting herself to her full height. She lowered her head to his level, and ran her tongue out. He was proud of the fact he didn't flinch when it brushed the side of his face, that he didn't shake at the look in her eyes, that he could glare right back at her with a look that said that if he'd had venom himself, he'd have used it on her.

Sideswipe was only peripherally aware of Strongarm trying to fight free, Grim renewing his struggles, even the humans and Fixit were putting up a few protests. It didn't make any difference. Not now.

A low, rumbling growl sounded. It wasn't the thunder, though it was deep enough.

It was Bumblebee.

* * *

Lachesis swung her head around to stare in shock at the Scout. She knew he hadn't been dead, had merely imposed a self-forced shutdown. She hadn't even known that was possible. For half a second, she'd been terrified he was dead, and Bothrop with him. But she'd quickly come to her senses and realized how stupid the notion was.

The Scout snarled again, his words clearer this time.

 _{This. Ends. Now.}_ he seemed to be dredging each word up from some sort of great beyond, some place deeper than himself, and it seemed like they had to be dragged out by force.

Lachesis tilted her head just a little, but the dark rings in the Scout's eyes were gone now. He had broken Bothrop's hold completely, and was now acting entirely on his own. But did he remember? Was he the Scout he had been before? Surely he couldn't be, not talking like that. Something was still wrong with him, the rage was inside, just waiting to roar. One wrong move, and he would be at her throat, trying to rip out her spark. His eyes never left her, like the others didn't exist for him in that instant. She lowered her head, and agreed to speak in the tongue he was using.

 _{What do you intend to do?}_ she inquired, still searching his face for any indication of Bothrop.

She knew it was possible for one mind to destroy the other, just as it was possible for one to dominate over the other. She didn't know which the Scout had done, and she was terrified that Bothrop wouldn't let himself be beaten, that he would fight to the death against the Scout.

 _{I? I intend nothing,}_ something was familiar in the cadence of his voice... something... not the Scout, _{It is you who have to make a choice here, not I.}_

 _{Me? What do you mean?}_

 _{Have you ever wondered, Lachesis, how your Master met his fate?}_

 _{What are you talking about?}_ Lachesis drew her head higher, but the Scout did not rise from his crouch, only tilted his head to follow her movement.

 _{The Viper. He dug for himself a deep pit, deeper even than your own. He dug it for himself, dug it with his own ambition. But what finally buried him was his fear.}_

 _{That's not true!}_ Lachesis snarled, anger welling up inside, _{My Master feared nothing!}_

 _{He. Feared._ Me _.}_

A pause, a tilt of the head, so familiar to her... so not the Scout as she knew him to be. It wasn't the Scout she knew. Her body went cold as she realized the horrifying truth in front of her... it wasn't the Scout at all.

 _{As. Should. You.}_

It was Pit Viper.


	28. Chapter 28

Pit Viper.

Bothrop had been as shocked and terrified as Lachesis on hearing the haunting echoes of his dead Master in the Scout's voice. When Strongarm had turned her submission into an attack, he was surprised to find the Scout allowed her, and thought for a moment that his work was coming unraveled at last (if still too soon).

And then the truth made itself felt: Her words had knocked _something_ loose. But it wasn't Bumblebee.

Nor was it Pit Viper risen from the grave, no matter how much it sounded like him.

Somehow, the Scout had found a way to... activate some sort of program through his memories of Pit Viper. Bumblebee himself did not appear to be in control of the moment. It was... it was like he was acting out a recording he'd left in his head. He was mechanically playing a role, his memory and perceptions of what Pit Viper had been, only with his own motivations supplanting those of the Viper.

Belatedly, Bothrop realized that this was why the Scout had seemed to have at once more and less fight than expected. He'd fought, buying himself time, but his intelligence had been at work elsewhere, in the one corner of his mind he somehow knew Bothrop would be too afraid to venture into.

Partially it surprised him because most Cybertronians put more emphasis and thought into the fact that they were alive than that they were also machines. They valued their independent thought and individual reactions. To intentionally design a program within themselves which could be triggered by an outside source... it was practically unheard of, though in no way impossible nor even terribly difficult. The damned Scout had performed a variant of mind controlling brainwashing on _himself_.

It was a strategy fit for Pit Viper, utterly ruthless, and devoid of feeling.

Bothrop knew what the end goal was, but what was the endgame?

This was impressive, certainly, and it had completely locked Bothrop out of having any control over the Scout. He could not speak to anyone outside, nor touch the Scout's mind. Every portion of the Scout had been locked up, as if behind a force field. For a moment, it seemed to be intending to keep Bothrop out... then he realized that it had a secondary purpose. It was going to keep the Scout in. Whatever he'd done, he was preventing his own consciousness from interfering.

Of course he would have to. He couldn't afford to let the garbled confusion of memories break his focus. He had to move smoothly, precisely, maneuver through to his endgame. But the program had a sort of consciousness of its own. He had given it the memory of his perceptions of Pit Viper to operate with. Because, while Bothrop could twist him, the Scout knew Bothrop wouldn't touch Pit Viper. It was an untainted source to work with.

He had difficulty believing the coldness of this Autobot in thinking up such a solution. This was risky, dangerous and a little bit insane. It was worthy of a Decepticon more than an Autobot, but even they tended to value themselves too highly to ever risk losing what they were in this fashion.

Whatever the Scout's endgame, it was obvious that it was not designed to protect him. It seemed entirely possible that, given the stresses and time limit he'd been under, the Scout could not possibly have built himself an easy way out. It was more likely that he intended to be destroyed.

But to what end?

* * *

 _{Pit Viper came to this planet with the same intention that you had,}_ the Scout's voice, but Pit Viper's essence rumbled more than it buzzed, and Lachesis was held motionless by its power, _{He came to kill me, but more than that, he wanted revenge. He wanted the whole world to pay for what had happened to him, for the injustice he felt had been done to him. An injustice was done, yes. But I had nothing to do with it. I was a victim, nothing more.}_

He paused, optics scanning her face, as if reading her reaction. Then he went on.

 _{I was a bargaining chip, a risk taken, one that didn't pay off. Pit Viper, at least, was wise enough not to blame me. He came here to use me to destroy for him, as you did. But he was more intelligent than you lot will ever dream of being. You exist like stagnant water, refusing to change, to adapt. I've been in Bothrop's head as he's been in mine, and I've seen every one of you. You're all just twisted monsters, with your heads shoved so far up your own exhaust ports that you don't even realize that you're an ouroboros. You represent nothing but destruction, even if you think otherwise. You are fools, amateurs playing at being powerful. Your purpose is nothing short of idiotic and ridiculous.}_

Each word shook Lachesis, because she heard her Master's voice in every one, even though she wasn't entirely following this. She didn't know what an ouroboros was, nor could she hope to argue that the Viper wasn't more intelligent than she; or even Bothrop.

 _{You think it will stop with me? I am nothing but a convenient target. Once you finish with me, you'll move on to the rest of the Autobots. You will destroy Earth. And you won't stop. You are creatures of Death, and the only thing you strive towards is The End. You may not believe that, because there are but two among you who have any higher aspirations than the mindless destruction of anything you don't like, and that's only because there's one thing in the universe you do like.}_

 _{We only seek your death, Scout. The one who destroyed our beloved Master,}_ Lachesis argued.

 _{Come now, Lachesis. Even you don't believe that. You may not have an excuse now, but you'll find one. Your type always does. You've got nothing stored in you but bile, anger and hate, and no purpose other than finding somewhere to aim all that infernal heat. You will find a reason to hate others besides me soon enough. It's all you have. It's all you've_ ever _had. Eventually that anger will burn so hot it kills you, or at least makes you slip up so someone else can have the dubious pleasure of doing it themselves.}_

Behind and around her, Lachesis sensed the other Serpents, gliding uncertainly in semi-circles, baffled as she was, yet more uneasy, as if they had a better idea of where this was going than she. Or perhaps, they merely sensed their own impending doom as the vibrations of thunder in the ground.

Seemingly without warning, the Scout assumed a kneeling posture. One knee on the ground, the other resting a hand. The other hand held out to her, open, palm up. An invitation.

 _{Come, Lachesis. Witness the truth, and make your own decision.}_

It was the voice she could never deny, combined with the longing to be reunited with Bothrop, to hear what he thought of this, if he was alright, if he understood what had changed and how to fix it. The truth. That's what she had left the Decepticons for. She had followed the Viper because he had never deceived her, nor ever treated her as less of a Cybertronian for being a Serpent. She was not merely a weapon to him, he was her Master, not merely her controller.

She didn't know when she'd slipped towards him, didn't remember sliding her body around his until it was resting comfortably across his shoulders. She leaned her head in close and reached out with the tip of her tongue. In a sudden burst of static, their minds connected, and she stepped onto the regolith pathway leading from her to Bumblebee; in her mind her body was Cybertronian once more, with arms and legs and a humanoid face. She didn't even notice the change in perception as she crossed over.

* * *

 _{He was here, yes. But not alone.}_

The memory into which Lachesis stepped was warmed by the sun overhead, cooking the dirt on the ground, which flew up into dust at the heady breeze. But it wasn't just a memory, she knew. If it were, she would have plunged into the Scout's perspective of it.

Instead, she was standing several feet behind two Cybertronians, one of which she recognized with a curl of her lip. She knew him, and had always hated that her Master seemed impressed by him. He who was loyal to Megatron to the death, who spoke never a word, who had not so much as a face to his name.

Soundwave.

The other she was less sure of. This was not the Scout as she had met him. It went deeper than build. This past version of himself moved as if he was heavier, but his motion was also easier, smoother. This was an Autobot who knew he was not the fastest or the strongest, but was fully aware of precisely what his limits were, and knew how to use every line of his being to his advantage if necessary. This was a bot who would tear himself apart to achieve his objective. He'd been at once more and less confident back then, and his optics had been striated with lines of black, rotating, shifting and fixing as no other Autobot or Decepticon's eyes ever did. When had that changed?

 _{This is not a Rogue we're hunting. He may want Autobots and Decepticons alike dead, but he has not lost his faculties. He's hunting. Hunting for the one who betrayed him.}_

In all the time she had known him, Lachesis had never seen Soundwave look surprised. But when the past image of the Decepticon turned to the past image of the Scout, he seemed every bit surprised. The Scout had known more at the time than would be expected.

Pit Viper had been set up, framed as a traitor, by one whose idiocy and selfish ambition would play no small part in Megatron's eventual failure and destruction. The Autobots knew he'd fallen from grace, and they had taken their chances trying to hunt him, but they'd had no way of knowing exactly how or why Pit Viper had been cast from the Decepticon circle. Not at the time.

Even Lachesis herself did not know this part of the story as she was viewing it. She knew Soundwave and Bumblebee had allied with one another to pursue her Master, but she did not know what Pit Viper had been doing. The last she knew, he had hatched a plan to unravel the Scout and use him against the others, though Lachesis had not understood at the time why he would be of value.

She thought she was beginning to, now.

This was the Scout who had convinced the most stoically superior Decepticon in history to work with him, to respect him enough to not merely mow him down or flat ignore him, but actually accept and use his talents as a Scout to find their joint quarry.

This was the Scout who had willingly stepped into the mind of Megatron, braving that twisted darkness with -she imagined- unflinching courage. And this after Megatron had once captured him, tortured him, left him to die alone and broken, caused the unusual speech impediment that had so marked and defined his service to the Autobot cause. Having been absolutely crushed by Megatron once, the Scout had nevertheless gathered up whatever courage he had and stepped into what had to have been -for him- a reality worse than his own death, to see into the mind that had once held such power over him.

This was the Scout who had -quite literally- died for what he believed in, the world he loved.

Pit Viper could always see potential. He had seen it in each and every one of the Serpents. He saw in ordinary Cybertronians the potential for greatness, to surpass the limits of their design and programming, to become something more than what they had been created to be.

Could it be, was it possible, had he seen the same thing in the Scout?

 _{You're failing in the hunt because you don't understand the prey you're hunting.}_

It was a remark that would have sent any lesser Decepticon into a flying rage. But Soundwave did not move, did not even appear to react when the Scout called him out on being ineffective.

The Scout's image wavered slightly as he looked up from the tracks he had been examining, turning his optics skyward, his shifting eyes turning, thoughtful. As if he knew that Pit Viper had once been capable of flight. Megatron had ripped his flight engine from him, as well as stripping him of his wings. Pit Viper would never fly again, but the Scout didn't seem to expect him to be up there.

Soundwave glanced up briefly, then kept his focus on the Scout. He stood, as if waiting. The great Decepticon tactician and former gladiator, waiting for an Autobot Scout.

Even though she knew it had happened, Lachesis had not fully believed it. But this was no false image, nor a daydream. It was called Augmented Memory, though the name was a bit of a misnomer. It was something all Scouts in the war had possessed, the ability to record memory and, using an internal program to extrapolate more information than their optics had actually seen, such as what they themselves had been doing, resulting in the memory looking as if it had been recorded by someone standing behind them. Lachesis didn't know why Scouts had the capability of recording memory this way, as more often they did it in the normal fashion, with their optics functioning as cameras.

But it allowed the images to freeze, and Lachesis to wander among them. At the time the memory was halted, the Scout and Decepticon had both transformed and -for reasons which Lachesis could not fathom- Soundwave was flying above Bumblebee, not racing on ahead as he so easily could have.

Then a slow smile crossed her face and she understood.

"Even the mighty Soundwave feared my Master, and could not face him alone," she scoffed, "The great Decepticon strategist... and he needed a lowly Scout to aid him."

 _{As you needed an army to hunt that same Scout.}_

Lachesis jumped, turned, but could find no source for the disembodied voice. The same voice which had drawn her here in the first place. Pit Viper, somehow speaking through the Scout.

"Why did you bring me here? What do you expect this to change? You offered the truth! What truth is there in this?" Lachesis demanded, straightening to her former full height.

 _{This is the beginning of the end. The final stand of Pit Viper.}_

"What of it?" Lachesis hissed.

 _{You will see.}_

She looked up, as that's where the voice seemed to have originated from this time; and gasped as the sky went black, she felt the memory twist, shift, and realized she was being swept along with it, sucked into a black hole of thought and writhing emotion, churning away into nothing.


	29. Chapter 29

Thunder crashed across the sky, and Strongarm flinched involuntarily. Everything had gone completely still in the wake of Lachesis sliding her body around Bumblebee, resting a portion of her length against his open hand and curling about so that her head lay on his right shoulder and against his neck.

The other Serpents still slipped about in an agitated manner, but took no action. The ones holding the Autobots continued to hold them, the one encircling Denny and Russell continued to encircle them. But otherwise, everything seemed to have come to a complete halt. Strongarm wondered what Bumblebee had said, and what Lachesis had responded with, that had led to an obvious and open invitation for her to slither up him and insert herself into his head.

Sideswipe had lain back on his side, the effort of holding himself upright proving too much. He'd only glanced at Strongarm once, and she'd seen the same confused fear she felt mirrored in his expression.

It was obvious that Bumblebee had secured some kind of cooperation from Lachesis. That could only mean he'd made a deal with her. But what sort of deal? He wasn't himself, but he also wasn't as he had been mere hours ago. He had seemed mindlessly aggressive, a slow intelligence had begun to surface, but just now when he'd woken up, he'd sounded entirely different. Cooler, calmer, more collected. Like he knew what was happening, and how to bend it to his advantage. But it wasn't Bumblebee, so there was no telling what his intentions were. Less clear even was why Lachesis should be interested in anything he had to offer, when her entire goal up to now had been destroying him.

One thing was certain, no version of Bumblebee Strongarm had seen wanted to be destroyed. If not his own death, what could he possibly have that Lachesis or any of the Serpents would want? And what of the one in his head? Couldn't the Serpent trying to control him make him share whatever it was that Lachesis wanted?

Strongarm felt a shiver run through her, and it had nothing to do with the chill rain tumbling down her armor.

* * *

Bothrop could see, but he couldn't touch, and that frustrated him. The Scout was observing with a kind of caged glee that was unnerving. Bothrop couldn't imagine what he intended to show Lachesis, or why he was dragging her down this pathway of memories. It rattled him that she had been convinced somehow to enter the Scout's mind of her own volition, and it angered him that he could do nothing to gauge her response to the memories the Scout was showing. He couldn't even hear what she said or what was being said to her, and that just about drove him crazy.

The journey the Scout had planned out seemed to be going in reverse time. The next stop had brought them to the Scout's being pursued by two Decepticons. Soundwave was chasing him this time, not working with him. The Scout was beaten and ragged, trapped in vehicle mode but fighting back, refusing to die at their hands. They hadn't wanted him dead anyway, not at the time.

Even without sound, the memory seemed to vibrate, fairly overflow with terror, confusion, and no small amount of resentful anger. If the world was against the Scout, then he was against the world. That appeared to be the message he was sending. That he'd take on the whole damned world if he had to.

In this darting, dodging, weaving, exhausted and battered Scout from memory, there was only a hint of the will that Bothrop had struggled against, though the intelligence was there, playing out each act of this drama with an eye ever cast towards the next bit, aimed at the future he couldn't see. The Scout of this memory was as savagely determined to live as he ever would be, with the same cunning and quickness that he had used to prevent Bothrop from seeing it until now.

Time rolled back again, and now the Scout sat in a holding lot. He was pretty severely banged up, as he would be later. Bothrop felt a thrill as he recognized Pit Viper sitting alongside the Scout. The memory's color and flow wavered, shuddered, and Bothrop realized the Scout had been in mental and emotional chaos at the time he absorbed this, so much so that even the replay was unstable.

It was obvious, even though Bothrop could not hear and both the Scout and Pit Viper were in vehicle mode, that the Viper was addressing Bumblebee. The shock and jolt of his words made the images flutter and shake, determinedly level off, then shudder again.

Bothrop sensed the Scout, the real and present Scout, shifting his attention to this display. It was clear from the way his mental processes ticked over that he was reliving the emotions and thoughts that went with this scene. Bothrop realized that this might be his true purpose. Reconnecting with himself at an earlier time, touching solid and untainted memories that gave a perfect picture of who he'd been at that moment, could easily shatter the flimsy illusions Bothrop had concocted for him. The Scout was trying to set himself free. But why involve Lachesis? Why did she need to see this too?

Bothrop could not guess.

* * *

Lachesis was getting used to the peeling layers of the Scout's memories, learning to roll and tumble with them so she wasn't too disoriented when she reached another stopping point.

She felt ghostly waves of emotion with the memories, as well as hearing them word for word. She could sense the fear the Scout had experienced, the uncertainty, the torment. She wished she could enjoy it. Pit Viper had inflicted all of this upon the Scout, whom she loathed for killing him. But above all, she merely felt a sense of futility. She knew how the story ended, no matter how things had looked at any one time. She couldn't even feel a twinge of triumph when Pit Viper talked the Scout into actually taking action and interfere in human affairs, however briefly.

They slipped further back in time, skipping when Pit Viper had first gone on the attack here on Earth, sliding right back to a seemingly unrelated time, when Bumblebee was on Earth alone, its solitary Scout. He knew then of the death throes of Cybertron, that he would likely never see his home again. The hostility of the Earth was most noticeable in the rain. There had been no rain on Cybertron and, back then, rust was a very real danger. The Scout suffered that and, eventually, the deaths of the first Autobots to seek refuge on the planet. Lachesis saw him snap and almost kill one of his own, nearly turn Rogue but pull back from that fate for reasons unclear.

"I know you," the she-Autobot he'd nearly killed said, "You saved my life."

The world had turned a Hellish red, the Scout's memories were so scrambled in that moment that the demons he'd had inside had slashed their way into it, but those words had subdued and silenced them, if only for a moment. The Scout had nearly shattered, broken into a million pieces.

And then the memories were reeling back still further, showing a Scout with wounded pride and lost voice, fiercely loyal, yet cold and standoffish, struggling for his footing in a world crumbling around him, looking to sell his life as dearly as he could until the soft, yet stern words of a Warrior pulled him up short and got his attention.

"Dyin' is easy, kid. And there's no deal you can make with Death that'll bring you back."

Back, back, all the way back to the night the Scout had been spooked and run from Pit Viper until he went crashing right into the arms of Megatron. And here... here was the center of his own private Hell.

Lachesis heard the Scout howl, but it wasn't the past him. It wasn't Pit Viper. It was the Scout himself, the one she'd set out to kill. Here, now. In the present. The howl tore across the landscape of his mind and shook the memories until they seemed to fall from the sky like rain, one after the other, tumbling and tearing through the one he had pulled up for her to experience, pouring down, trying to drown her in them. It was like a dam had broken just to shut out this one moment of his existence, the brief blink of an eye in his life when Megatron had wielded absolute power over him, and torn him up by every method he knew, cutting for the information he wanted out of the Scout.

Lachesis screamed as the first waves of agony struck her, putting her hands to her head as if to shut out a noise. The pain slammed into her, knocking her onto her knees, and she couldn't get free of its grip. She tried to close her eyes and not look at the tumbling chaos that slashed through this memory, that made sure the true depth of its horror was buried under so much other stuff she couldn't touch it.

She realized that she was now in the Scout's memory, staring helplessly at Megatron as he shouted his questions, demanding answers that she- the Scout -refused to give up. With each beat, her senses overloaded and sought to escape this Hell, dipping and darting into memories, calling them up to defend herself, to drown herself, to escape before she could break and answer the questions.

Lachesis screamed, and the Scout screamed with her.

Words, a voice, from a different time, a different place, a different life, floated across her mind.

 _{Are you afraid, Scout?}_ the voice of Pit Viper asked, _{You should be. Everyone is the enemy now. Everyone wants you dead. What are you going to do, Scout? What do you intend to become in order to survive?}_

She was jolted from her strapped down position as Megatron crushed the Scout's voice, the memory snapped and shattered and suddenly she was launched into forward motion, dragged by an invisible hand at her throat, yanking her past when the Scout had lain, broken and battered after the torture, just waiting to die. She went on by the Scout finding his strength again, learning his place, his value, that he had given everything in defiance of Megatron and survived and what that could mean for others like him to see he was still alive even in spite of the warlord. She practically crashed through his early memories of Earth, only barely brushing against the first touch of feeling in him for humans.

Then, with a final jerk, she found herself deposited on a hill overlooking a road in the desert. A tree at her back provided shade, and she was looking at the Scout sitting in vehicle mode, a boy leaning against the tree behind her, sun bright overhead, warm, peaceful... _Earth_.

It was as if she had never seen it before. High cliffs, rocky canyons, wide expanses of beautiful red sand, tough vegetation surviving in the dry world, sharp lines of their shadows on the ground.

She caught her breath at the sight, sound, smell and feel of all of it. She realized she was seeing this place through the Scout's – through Bumblebee's – eyes. Above all, her spark swelled at the infinite tenderness and care with which Bumblebee regarded the boy, with such softness as she had only imagined herself capable of, the way he felt about that boy gave Bumblebee infinite patience, unlimited courage, an inner calm and peace he had not known for so very long, this bright spot, blinding in its light with the surround blackness of the memories pressing on it.

And then, there was Pit Viper. A green blight upon the land, threatening this one most precious thing in the universe. This human. This boy. The helpless, fragile, priceless life form for which Bumblebee felt every good feeling he had. Bumblebee was his guardian, his friend, his brother. And Pit Viper was driving right for him, going to snuff that fragile promise, hope and happiness, shatter it to pieces.

This was the furious monster that Lachesis had awakened. The deathless hatred, anger, violence. All of it had activated the moment Bumblebee saw the boy's life was threatened. And he reacted. He moved with absolute intent to kill, to tear this threat to pieces. This was the one good thing he had left, the only one who could see him for something other than the soldier he had become. Even the other Autobots, though family, were soldiers in a war first. This was uncomplicated. This was truth.

Lachesis heard herself cry out in protest.

Pit Viper had attacked the spark. He had tried to destroy the one thing in the world Bumblebee loved above all others. This child, his best friend, this beautiful thing, this perfect example of what he was fighting for, that made all the days before and after this in Hell worthwhile. And Pit Viper was going to destroy it.

Bumblebee would not allow it.

Even as he bore down on Pit Viper, the journey launched forward, spinning ahead in time to the cold, lonely night when an exhausted Bumblebee finally remembered who had attacked him. He hadn't even remembered that first time. He hadn't even known who Pit Viper was, much less why he was threatening that shining bit of bright joy. Pit Viper was nothing but another monster to him. If it was bloody, so be it. Bumblebee would tear this world to pieces before he'd see harm come to that boy. And anything or anyone who got in his way was going to die.

She flinched at the sound of Bumblebee's despairing wail when he discovered that a human had been at the wheel of the car he'd attacked, tried not to feel pain at the sound of the Autobot leader sentencing the Scout for his critical mistake, casting him from the Autobot ranks. Her head pounded with the myriad whispers the Viper had sent through Bumblebee's radio, cringed when he nearly killed himself trying to get away, was awed by his cleverness in faking his own death, and floored by his courage in facing the Viper a second time when the boy came under threat once more, even knowing he was trapped in vehicle mode and could never win, that even if he did it was still a death sentence in its way.

She felt the trembling uncertainty and disbelief when Bumblebee's plan brought down Autobots and Decepticons, the latter pursuing Pit Viper while the former attempted to reconcile with him. The fear and guilt had pushed out reality, until all he could hear were the echoes of Pit Viper's stinging words.

 _"The Prime took everything from you."_ said in reference to Optimus Prime dismissing Bumblebee from the Autobots as a result for his perceived crime of killing a human, a crime he was -in the end- proven to be innocent of.

In reference to humans themselves, " _Vile, aren't they? So fragile. So pathetic. So self-centered. Think they own the world. Not a one of them realizing how frail life is, how easy it would be for them to be blown away. A sudden gust of wind... poof, all gone."_

And the Viper had escaped before, from an Autobot Warrior sent to kill him, _"I played him like the fool he was. And he let me live. Because of his decision, you lost your voice. You want to know his name? For it was his lack of good judgment that brought us here today. Without him, none of this would have happened. You would not be an outcast now. You would still have a voice to speak with."_

Once again referring to the Prime, _"Stripped you down and sent you away to rot. Didn't even have the bearings to finish it himself. Sent you to die. Ordered you to die."_

It was the boy who tugged his awareness back, who held out his hand and pulled Bumblebee from the mental pit he had dug for himself, who helped him realize that he had to do something. To set himself free from this nightmare, he had to wake up. He had to kill the Viper.

If he didn't, that voice would haunt him forever.

The hunt for Pit Viper, the chase, the desperate hope for the wavering future he had always looked towards, even if he could not see it. The fight that had put Soundwave out, the long chase, the final struggle between Bumblebee and Pit Viper. In a last, desperate bid for power, the Viper had tried to goad the Scout into shooting him. But the Scout would not be goaded.

 _{I am a soldier. I do not answer to you.}_

Two words from the Prime. So small, so insignificant, so vast in their implications and meaning.

"End this."

Single shot to the spark.


	30. Chapter 30

Lachesis stood in the aftermath of the truth, amidst swirling moon dust and sparkling shards of memory that, with each fragile turn, showed a different possible way of being. She knew she was seeing not just a shattered mind, but the results of Bothrop's handiwork. She saw beauty, and then observed as it turned dark, violent, saw a life poisoned by the serpent's bite.

Lies and half truths spun carelessly through the air, a patchwork of good and evil, forming a landscape of unpredictable blackness and uncertainty, spinning from light to dark without cessation, an unstable rush of positive and negative seeking to occupy the same spaces in time. In some, the images were changed, in others, merely the emotions to accompany them.

And, at the center of it all, the Pit Viper. Gleaming brilliant green, shining black trim, a hood scoop that resembled a malevolent grin. Motionless, flawless in detail, the Viper watched the world fall.

Then came the voice, speaking loud and level, _{This is what you have done._ _Bothrop knows you intimately, and I know your kind through him. You are all as twisted as Pit Viper was, without a purpose aside from destruction. You won't stop with me, the other Autobots or even the whole Earth. You'll find excuses to destroy, and keep on destroying, because it's the only thing you believe in. Death. For that reason, I can't in good conscience allow you to continue existing.}_

She felt a thrill of fear as thunder rolled, the outside world penetrating even here in this deep place of the mind. She realized that she had made a mistake in coming here. Bumblebee had overcome Bothrop. Lachesis herself stood no chance. She knew that he could destroy her mind. He had that power. She wouldn't have believed it before, but now she knew beyond doubt that it was true.

The Scout had brought her here to kill her. She knew that now, because now she understood what she was to him. Not friend, not enemy, not even Cybertronian. Nothing but a threat to what he loved. It was one thing she could understand, because the only thing she felt now was urgency.

What had he done to Bothrop? If Bothrop was dead, what would victory even mean? She knew she would tear the Scout apart if he'd done something to Bothrop, or she would at least damn well try. She wasn't even interested in revenge just now. She just wanted Bothrop to be safe, and alive.

It was the only thing that mattered in the moment.

 _{You see now the truth. Pit Viper died. He was buried in a grave of his own design. He is not coming back. He had no great and worthy cause. He was cunning and swift, but he was not wise.}_

From some dark shadow, the Scout materialized, stepping from nothing as naturally as the sun touches the sky. The memories continued to spin and turn, but the fire in them faded.

"What was the point of all this?" Lachesis wanted to know.

 _{The same as in all things,}_ Bumblebee replied, in that voice... the voice that no longer sounded like the ghost of Pit Viper, but one who carried the burden of his death like a badge of honor, and a scar that would never fade, _{I am offering you a choice, Lachesis. Because I know you. Pit Viper made his bed, let him lie in it. But you, Lachesis... you have something to live for. You don't need me to tell you what that is, or why it's important to you. But I am going to tell you this: You cannot have both. This is going to end, Lachesis. I'd love to kill this snake in my head, but I know if I do you'll never let this go.}_

"You want me to end this," Lachesis said, "and you're going to hold Bothrop hostage."

 _{You have left me no other choice. We both know I can't take on that den of vipers. They'll kill me, and everyone I care about, and I won't have anything to show for it. This is the only card I have left. I want to live, Lachesis. I have people who need me now. Don't take me from them, or they from me.}_

She started to compose a response, but the wind was knocked from her as she was thrown back, evicted from the Scout's mind in the same rush of motion that had brought her in. She was not alone when she went, either. She sensed Bothrop take his place beside her in her own mind, and opened her eyes.

She had fallen onto her back in the mud, rain spattered against her underbelly. She was a Serpent again, the feminine features she'd forgotten she ever had were gone. Gone now and forever. She knew and, for the first time, regretted it. She turned over.

The Scout still knelt, motionless. One knee and one fist sank into the mud, the other hand rested on the upraised knee, his head remained bowed. The Scout did not look at her, or anyone.

Lachesis lifted her body and looked around. The Serpents were there, circling uneasily.

The Scout, she realized, was wiser than she had ever given him credit for. He knew he could kill both her and Bothrop, destroy their minds while they were trapped in there with him. But the Serpents would kill him a moment later. Lachesis was not a fool. She saw his strategy.

Let her go, give her what she wanted, and pray she had mercy in her soul.

She turned her head to look at the Scout, who had not moved. She could kill him here and now. One bite was all it would take. No repercussions, no penalty. The other Autobots, they could be killed first. The humans could be slain, and the Scout could do nothing to stop it. She could destroy him with less than a word, with nothing but a nod of her narrow head with its tear engraved face.

He knew that. And, what's more, she had learned enough to know that he was aware of how much she knew. Hers was a race of manipulators. They knew how to gamble, they knew how to turn wills and minds to their advantage. They were blackmailers and spies, indirect assassins. She would never wake in the night and feel regret or guilt for things she had done, her conscience had been silent for eons, and he knew it. He knew she would not be confused by his actions, would not make the mistake of thinking he was letting her go out of the goodness of his spark. He was doing it because it was the only chance he had.

But it was not, she realized, what she would have done.

She had spent her life among the greatest liars and deceivers of the galaxy for so long that she had forgotten what truth even looked like. Had she been in the Scout's position, she would have seen her opportunity to strike her enemy then and there. She'd had shredded him to pieces and accepted that Death was the way of the world, that were was no escaping it, and given herself that fate because she could see no other way of being. The Scout was right; she was a destroyer, with no higher ambition. Whether she died today or tomorrow was of little consequence, for she had no great cause, no important mission, nothing that she needed and no one that needed her.

She would have accepted death if it meant taking her tormentor with her.

"You are as cunning as you are wise, Bumblebee," she said quietly, but a rumble of thunder crashed, drowning her words and she did not believe he heard her.

She realized it didn't matter. He was not looking for her respect, her admiration or her awe. He wasn't even betting on her having an ounce of mercy in her. He was appealing solely to her intelligence, and that pleased her in a way she didn't quite understand.

He had said without words " _You are smarter than this. You are_ better _than this. Now prove it."_

But what he was asking of her was no small thing and they both knew it. The Serpents were fanatics, and they had no compelling reason for following her other than that she was their best chance at avenging the death of their Master. Death was their sole ambition. Specifically, the death of the Scout. She couldn't just call them off and expect them not to tear her to pieces, find themselves a new leader and renew their campaign to wipe Bumblebee from the face of the Earth.

She was not afraid to die, just as she knew the Scout was not. He had made his choice, which was to set her free in order for her to make one of her own. This wasn't about when she would die or who would kill her. This was about why. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it was the only thing that did.

Amphivena slid closer than the others dared, her head respectfully low.

 _{What is it?}_ Amphivena asked hesitantly, _{What did you see?}_

Lachesis didn't answer at first. In truth, she was not certain. She knew, but did not have words to describe it. She looked at the Scout, but he had not moved and said nothing. Then she heard the soft roll of Bothrop's voice in her mind, a gentle reminder that he was here with her, that the Scout could have hurt him, killed him, had every reason in the world to do just that, but had let him go. Bothrop supplied the answer for her, and she spoke it aloud somewhat haltingly.

"I saw Bumblebee," she answered, turning her head only slowly towards Amphivena, as Bothrop continued to speak to her in hushed whisper on the inside, "I saw the Scout's soul."

In a blink, her head darted forward and her two fangs -one broken- sank into Amphivena's skull. Her jaws closed on the head of the smaller Serpent, who thrashed in her grip but hadn't the power to escape it. Tilting her nose down, Lachesis unleashed her venom into the unfortunate Serpent's body.

Hisses of shock and outrage went up, and suddenly the Serpents were turning on her, moving towards her, intending to kill her as they realized that the enemy had managed to convert her to his cause.

But Lachesis was not alone.

The Scout didn't so much rise as activate, like someone had flipped a switch. He stood, turned, and caught the careless Crotalus by the neck. Crotalus had not expected him to move, nobody did. The Scout planted his knee on Crotalus' back and restrained him while Lachesis slid her tongue between the seams of the scaled armor on his face, while Amphivena screeched and lashed about in violent death throes. Like liquid from a tipped pitcher, Bothrop slid from Lachesis and into Crotalus.

He had been there before, and it was not difficult to wrench control from the weaker willed Serpent. The Scout released him a moment later, as the Serpents were closing on Lachesis. He reared back his head and spat at them. Half a dozen fell before Lachesis, stunned. She bit them all.

While Bothrop shot them down and she finished them, the Scout fended off any who managed to evade them. His movements were fluid and easy; he had learned much from Bothrop, including the intricacies of each and every Serpent here. He was ready for anything they might try, and he knew their weaknesses better than they did. That they had overpowered him so easily before was partially a product of his own ignorance; he simply didn't know where to hit them to disable them.

That flaw in his combat abilities had been remedied.

The advantages continued: the turning of Lachesis was so sudden and unexpected that the Serpents were thrown into chaos. They had not expected that, nor did they anticipate the Scout's new-found awareness of their physical limitations. Worse, many of them were reluctant to enter the fray because they were just in disbelief about it all. The captors of the Autobots swayed in a kind of stupor.

Grimlock took advantage of that. He swung sideways with his massive head, ripping free from the Serpents attempting to keep him in check. The moment he could part his jaws, he opened his mouth and clamped down on the nearest snake body. Crunching through the armor was no major effort, and he immediately threw his victim, stomped to his feet and sought another.

Outright panic gripped the den, and some of them even turned on each other in their confusion.

When a Serpent managed to bite into Crotalus' body, injecting a fatal dose of venom, Bumblebee was quick to come to the aid of Bothrop. He had picked up a blaster the Serpents were no longer guarding, and now provided covering fire to protect Lachesis long enough for her to remove Bothrop.

Crotalus, dying now, rolled his eyes at her in unrelenting fury. In a detached way, she saw how betrayed he was. She was killing her own kind. But she would not change her mind now. It was much too late for that.

She swung her head and shot a stunning blast at the Serpents who were trying to climb up the side of the dinobot and drag him to the ground. The Scout ripped another body from the throng and offered it up for Lachesis to inject Bothrop into. He swept from her mind in a dizzying rush and tore free of the Scout's grip, taking over from Lachesis as the deliverer of poisonous bite.

Even so, their most important advantage was pandemonium. Not all of them had seen the moment of betrayal, some didn't know Lachesis was their enemy; nobody knew what was going on, or who was on which side and there were too many Serpents to easily sort it all out. They were killers, destroyers, and they had their excuse. They went to work on each other as eagerly as they had gone after the Scout.

The Scout had been right. Of course he had been right. This was the truth of what they were. Killers. Destroyers. Followers of Death. They had no higher call, served no greater master. And this was where it had brought them.

It wasn't a battle, it was a bloodbath.

 _He planned this,_ Lachesis realized, _From the start, he knew somehow that this was where we would be, that this was how it would end. He knew. How could he have known?_

But of course, he was an Autobot from that seemingly unending war, a soldier from a time when you had to be six steps ahead of the enemy at all times, when you had to know their mind to find them, use their strengths against them as much as their weaknesses, when you had to kill without hesitation, but know also when it was in your interest to use reason, or simply just to run. He was the one Scout Megatron could not break, who faced death unafraid, the only soldier in that whole damned war who had what it took to hunt down and kill Pit Viper himself.

He wasn't a Scout. He was a Warrior.

And he knew it.


	31. Chapter 31

Anger is a beast which refuses to be chained for long, and will not be ignored. If you stuff it down into a container, it will burn hotter and stronger until it breaks free. It knows no bounds, no reason, and needs no excuse to flourish. It cannot be destroyed. It cannot be tamed. It cannot be contained. Yet still, somehow, it is possible to wrest control from it, and deny it power.

It was never more apparent to Strongarm that returning the genie to the bottle once it is set loose is no small feat than when, at the end of the battle, Bumblebee turned and leveled his weapon at her. His eyes betrayed only rage, showing only a burning desire to kill everyone who was still standing. He didn't appear to recognize her, and actually fought back when Lachesis swept herself around his arm and yanked down, forcing his weapon to point at the ground. The other Serpent left standing, presumably Bothrop, caught Bumblebee by the other arm. Together, they forced him down onto his knees and held him there for the fifteen seconds it took for him to calm down and stop fighting them.

It hadn't been Bumblebee the last time he'd looked her in the eye. But now it was.

"Strongarm," he sounded almost surprised by her existence, as if even speaking her name might cause the illusion of her presence to disappear, "I... I'm sorry... I can't..." he shook his head.

The smaller Serpent looked at the larger. Slowly, they released Bumblebee.

"I cannot cage the monster that was released," Bothrop said, "but I can undo the damage I did."

"What does that-" Strongarm didn't finish the question.

In the space of a spark pulse, several things had happened. Lachesis darted her head forward, swiping her tongue across the head of the other, who had bent forward and down for this precise action. As she drew back her head, Bumblebee lifted his blaster and shot the other Serpent in the head. Before the mask of cold anger could settle over his features once more, Lachesis had slipped her head up against him, her tongue brushed against his neck. He made as if to recoil, then went still, his body going limp as it had when he had allowed Lachesis into his mind.

She slowly withdrew her head, concerning drawn on her reptilian face.

"What did you do?!" Strongarm cried, moving towards Bumblebee, kneeling in front of him, terrified that she got no reaction when she waved a hand in his face and saw his eyes completely without light.

"It is not what we did," Lachesis assured her, in a voice soft as velvet, "It is what we are undoing."

"What does that even mean!?" Strongarm snapped, flashing a glare as the Serpent.

She didn't care that Lachesis and Bothrop had just slain all of their own kind, had fought alongside the Autobots. They were still vile creatures. They had hurt Bumblebee, intended to kill him. She didn't trust them, not when they'd changed Bumblebee as they had.

"Be at ease, young one," Lachesis' dark eyes were gentle as she looked at Strongarm, without any of the malice or haughty superiority that had marked her expression before, "No harm will come to him. We would not hurt him now, even if we could."

"I don't even know what-" Strongarm paused, realizing she'd said that already.

"What's he doing in there?" Russell asked.

Strongarm jumped, having nearly forgotten about the others. Looking around, she saw that Fixit was trying to stifle the leak in Sideswipe, and Grimlock was studiously ripping the bodies of the Serpents into progressively smaller pieces. Denny and Russell had gathered behind Strongarm, casting wary glances at Bumblebee and Lachesis, but not shying away.

Lachesis tucked her head, then lowered it to Russell's level, making no attempt to close the distance between them. Her eyes were uncharacteristically soft, her expression almost patiently amused.

"Dear creature, we are giving him back his life," she paused thoughtfully, "We are returning to him that which we stole, the memories that made him as he was and should be."

Russell looked as suspicious as Strongarm felt, but said nothing.

"Just like that?" Strongarm snapped, "You think this is over? Lady, the only thing keeping me from blowing your scrudding head off is that your friend is in my friend's head."

"Oh no," Lachesis said, raising her gaze to Strongarm without lifting her head, "This is not over. I am well aware that neither Bothrop nor I will be allowed to go free. I understand that you at present have a world to save, an evil to conquer. This is not the place for us to change from what we were, it would be too easy to destroy this world were we to regress. And there is no way for you to send us home. We know. Bumblebee has made it clear what future we can expect."

"Oh really?" Strongarm crossed her arms.

"You may not believe this, as you've no good reason to, but your leader presented me with a choice. I have made it and will now abide by it. When Bothrop has finished, he will return to me, and together we will submit to confinement within a stasis pod until such time as it is safe for our release," her eyes glittered in the receding light of the lightning, "We have our purpose now. We will be reborn."

Strongarm wasn't sure she liked the sound of that at all. She also wasn't sure the Serpent was telling the truth, or that Bumblebee had been in any condition to offer or explain anything to her. But the eyes of the Serpent were so tranquil, her body so relaxed, that it was difficult to remain tense.

"Just what did you and he talk about anyway?" Strongarm asked reluctantly.

"I did very little talking," Lachesis replied neutrally, "As did he. Rather, he showed me."

"Showed you what?" Strongarm wanted to know.

"The world," Lachesis said, with a brief pause, "as seen through his eyes."

* * *

It was different this time.

The Scout's mind was darker now, and fires burned hot in it. But that wasn't the difference. The change was in his mental attitude towards Bothrop. Up to now, the Scout had been trying to avoid or overcome Bothrop, maybe even trying to kill him at times. Now he let Bothrop slip in without protest, allowing him to scan the thoughts and memories the Scout currently had at the surface.

Flickering instances of the battle they'd just won shimmered bright, faded, then brightened again. Shadowy flashes of all that he had shown Lachesis circled. At the center of things, there was no longer the Viper, but another memory. It was a full, overflowing memory, and its light touched everything around it. Bothrop remembered it. It had felt like a sharp jolt of electricity to him, followed by a mental explosion that threw him back and, for a moment, he'd wondered if he was about to be wiped from existence. But it had been the Scout's program activating. The sound of the Autobot -Strongarm's- voice thrummed through this landscape, gentle as a breeze, powerful as a hurricane.

" _You_ made _this team. You built it up with your own two hands. But you gave it to me to guard, and I will_ die _before I let you destroy it. Do you understand me?! This is my team to protect, and I'll kill you if I have to. Now you have to make a choice. Who are you!?"_

The final question fired like a bullet, it pinged and bounced off the memories and they spun, dancing and ringing out in sequence like wind chimes. It wasn't the words. It was what they represented. The Scout's team, his family, his life. And she who would die to guard what he cared about most.

Had he known that things would have to become so desperate before she would speak to him that way? Or had it merely worked out as such? What would have happened if she'd brought out the program he'd built when they were nowhere near the Serpents? What if it had played out differently? What if the program had never been activated at all?

 _Who are you?_

It was a question that demanded an answer, and name, rank and serial number weren't going to cut it. Bothrop realized that, not only had no one ever asked him, he had no answer for it anyway.

He found the Scout's consciousness through that memory. It was like stepping through a doorway, only what lay on the inside of it looked nothing like the outside. He didn't step into the memory itself, but only into another area of the Scout's mind, where his consciousness stood waiting, trembling.

Fear.

In all his struggles with the Scout, he had never achieved it. The Scout had fear, but not of him. Never of him. Yet now, it fell in tumbling, choking cascades, thick as smoke, dark as night. The Scout was scared to death of him in that moment, and yet Bothrop couldn't enjoy it because -now- he didn't want the Scout to be afraid of him. Now he had come to help, to undo what he'd done, to set the Scout free.

The Scout had no reason to fear him now. Yet fear Bothrop he did, even as he let the Serpent journey deeper into the most fragile, vulnerable centers of his mind. The Scout did not protest the probing through layers of thought and feeling, did not resent the peering at memories, no matter how personal. He did not fight Bothrop this time, even as the memories and emotions the Serpent had manipulated cut at him, hurt him, cornered and tormented him. Bothrop had done this, yet the Scout was more afraid of him now that he'd come to undo it. He didn't know why.

" _Easy, Scout. I'm not here to cut you again. Just take it easy."_

He knew that, if the Scout panicked, he could now easily wind up shattering Bothrop. Bothrop was more vulnerable now than before. The Scout knew his mind as intimately as he had come to know the Scout, knew his weaknesses, and would likely strike without thinking. Besides which, Bothrop simply didn't have the armor of before. He now had something he wanted, something that meant he wanted to live. He didn't want the Scout to tear him to pieces. Not knowing Lachesis would destroy all of their kind just for the chance to stay with him. He wasn't sure what that meant yet, but he would never get to find out if the Scout tore him apart now.

The Scout flinched, but didn't recoil, didn't lash out.

Hesitantly, Bothrop slipped closer to the fire in his mind. Memories seared along his side, but he was looking for one that didn't burn too hot to touch, to try and repair. He found one, a precious small shard, and pulled it clear of the others. He looked at what he had made it into, not so different from what it was, yet something much darker, infinitely worse for the tiny change.

A dark sky, lightning striking the ground, knocking a small car about on a road, then sending it off the road. A tornado, sucking the car and its occupants into it. Bumblebee catching the vehicle, even his strength not great enough to stand against the tornado for long, clinging to the ground, even as the car was ripped from his grasp. A squeal of terror, and a fade to black, to burning and fire.

But that wasn't the real end, was it? No. Gently, Bothrop blew the fire away and pulled at the knot he'd tied there until it suddenly ripped loose, unveiling the fact that, at the last instant, the two occupants of the car had climbed onto Bumblebee, that they were both safe, that he had saved them, they hadn't died.

It was one of thousands, millions even. How many times had Bothrop made these exact two people die in the Scout's memory? How many more times had he made them betray him? And they were only two in the long list of those the Scout had known over time, had cared about, had fought for.

He let the memory slide free, and gazed wearily at the inferno before him. He had built this fire and, though the Scout struggled to put it out on his own, it was Bothrop who knew its every nuance, every detail. Piece by piece, he would restore the Scout's memory. But he also intended to drink in what each one meant. There was a great hole in him, an emptiness the Scout did not have. Why?

 _Who are you?_

Bothrop had seen everything in the Scout's mind, but he still didn't have an answer to that. He had seen, but had neither understood nor cared to understand what he was seeing truly meant. He had seen everything, yet missed it all, failed to grasp even the most basic import of these events he'd been scrolling past and burning to the ground. What was it that Bumblebee had that Bothrop did not? What had Lachesis seen here?

He had seen only at a distance what Lachesis had been shown. He knew it had affected her, and he had followed her lead. But he only felt the change which had come over her, he didn't know why it had. What had she gotten from seeing the Scout's memories? What was there in the truth that Bothrop had missed?

The Scout continued to tremble and radiate fear, but did nothing when Bothrop snagged another memory and peered at the sorrow he had inflicted before turning it right. It was another memory that wasn't especially happy to begin with, and he had made it just that little bit worse. Those were the easiest ones to change, and also the most significant. A moment of happiness or contentment had far less power than danger narrowly averted, loyalty tested and proven in the space of a split second, the strength of evil denied, a hero dying for their cause, that moment of intensity when a life so nearly lost was spared by the thinnest of margins, when the truth of life was at its simplest, its purest, its most undeniable.

In each of these moments, the Scout was so full, so real, so _alive_ , and Bothrop could not fathom why.

With each memory he touched, he felt the Scout relax just that little bit, becoming just that little bit less fearful, just that little bit more stable, just that little bit more calm. Just a little, but each fraction made a world of difference. Even as the fires were put out one by one, the light of the Scout himself grew brighter, until he was almost blinding to look at.

Then Bothrop touched on a bigger memory, a central one, one of life's pivot points. It seemed safe enough, then Bothrop realized what it was. It was the moment Megatron had killed Bumblebee.

The reality surrounding him exploded, and collapsed in on him.


	32. Chapter 32

Fixit hovered nearby, but did not interfere.

Frankly, he wasn't sure what he could possibly do in this situation. He had no firsthand experience with the cortical psychic patch, and certainly had no information on any Cybertronian who had that technology built right into them. He refused to admit that he was fascinated by Lachesis. She was a sleek weapon, a beautiful piece of technology, almost more machine than living thing.

It was as interesting as it was appalling to think that the Decepticons had once tinkered this directly with the laws of nature. That someone such as Lachesis even existed was a triumph of science; as well as living proof of the twisted nature of evil. She should never have been altered as she had been. It was hard to imagine she had ever been anything other than what she was.

She had been a Decepticon, and a fairly ordinary Cybertronian once.

Fixit tapped his grabbing extremities together nervously, but Lachesis did not acknowledge him. She had curled herself beside Bumblebee, resting her head upon several layers of her body's coils so that she was nearly level with his kneeling form. And there she had remained, barely moving save for the occasional outward flick of her silver tongue; the purpose of the action was lost on Fixit. Her eyes did not appear to be focused; she ignored everything around her.

Strongarm and Grimlock had gotten to work clearing the scrapyard of its corpses, while Denny and Russell surveyed the damage the battle had done to their home and work space. Fixit knew he had better things to do, but he was reluctant to leave. Bumblebee might need him. He couldn't imagine what for.

No attempt had been made to move Sideswipe, who lay more or less motionless behind Fixit. He had been as uneasy as Fixit for awhile, but exhaustion had gotten the better of him and now he was fully oblivious of the world around him. It was about time, his energon reserves were critically low. He couldn't afford to exert himself at all. Not without replacing what he'd lost and resting for awhile so that his body could begin to effect repairs on itself. The only thing that had allowed him to get up that last time had been sheer force of will, and even that couldn't hold him together indefinitely.

But Fixit wasn't worried about Sideswipe right now. He was concerned with Bumblebee.

Something was happening to Bee. Something on the inside, where Fixit couldn't see it. Something he didn't understand, and had no control of. He wasn't a real medic, but he was the best the team had, yet he was being forced to allow Bee's well being to be determined by something that had, not eight hours earlier, been attempting to either eat him or else crush him flat.

The Serpents had made clear that they ate minicons given the chance, and were no kinder to larger Autobots. One now lay curled beside the defenseless Autobot leader, the other was skulking about in Bumblebee's mind, doing God knows what in there. It all had Fixit very worried.

He was once again completely useless.

Here he was, at the scrapyard, with all his equipment, and the crisis wasn't solvable by violence. It was medical in nature, at least on the surface. Yet he still was just standing around, doing nothing, thinking nothing, unable to do anything because he didn't have the ability to even understand what he was looking at. Apparently it didn't matter what the situation was, Fixit just wasn't good enough. The team needed someone better. Deserved someone better.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Lachesis suddenly focused her eyes and looked right at him. She didn't move, but her piercing gaze halted Fixit mid-fidget. He stood there, stunned by her.

"You are the only one of them with knowledge of basic speech," she stated.

"Y-y-yes... why do you ask-ask-ask-ask?" he banged on his chest and managed to stop himself.

"You heard our words. And you knew," Lachesis continued, "Yet you offered no protest when Bumblebee invited me to enter his mind. Why not?"

 _Why would I?_ Fixit wondered silently, but decided not to say that.

"Lt. Bumblebee obviously had a plan."

"He was also patently out of his mind," Lachesis reminded him.

Fixit paused at this. Lachesis was right, Bumblebee was in no condition to make any intelligent decisions, particularly where the enemy was concerned, as they were the ones who had messed with his head. Lachesis had a point, but Fixit refused to concede that.

"Some would say I am out of my mind," Fixit said slowly, drawing out in words what he'd felt at the time, "I was damaged when I crash landed here. I lost a lot of my memory, and can't access many of my functions. I am... handicapped, both mentally and physically."

Lachesis lifted her head about a half inch, a clear expression of surprise. But she said nothing.

"After the crash, I continued to perform my duties as best I could remember them. I did not expect to be doing it for long, but when Lt. Bumblebee and Cadet Strongarm arrived with Sideswipe, it was clear they had not come to rescue me, that they could not send me home or take over for me."

Lachesis settled her head back to its former position, tipped slightly downward so the rising sun caught her silver tear grooves, making them glint and sparkle. She said nothing.

"I have tried on numerous occasions to make clear to Lt. Bumblebee that I am inadequate for the job I am asked to perform. He won't hear a word of it. He's always insisted that I am still myself, that I am the best minicon for the task, that none of the others could do half the things I do. That I am valuable, worthwhile, irreplaceable, and unique. That -no matter what memories I've lost or how badly damaged I am- I have the spark of an Autobot, and that's enough to carry me through."

"I see," Lachesis said quietly, thoughtfully.

"Lt. Bumblebee is the leader of our team... and he's my friend. No matter... no matter," Fixit couldn't believe he was stammering and it wasn't even a glitch, "No matter what happens to him. I have to believe that he's the same bot he was yesterday, the week before and the day I met him. No matter how he changed on the surface, underneath it he was still an Autobot, that his spark was the same and that it was enough. I trusted to that."

Lachesis draw her head back, blowing cycled air. Her eyes got a faraway look for a moment, then refocused. She sighed and relaxed once more, dark eyes soft in acceptance of the answer.

"You were not wrong."

 _I wasn't, was I? It_ was _enough. It can_ be _enough._ I _can be enough._

It was what Bumblebee had always told him. Sometimes he even dared to believed it. This was one of those times.

* * *

When the Serpent touched the memory, it was as if a bomb had dropped in Bumblebee's head. It acted like an explosion on a dam, unleashing fifteen trillion gallons of roaring, rushing water on an unsuspecting landscape. The flow was crushing, and Bumblebee felt himself being flattened by it, ripping from his mental point of safety and carried away by the flood of memories whose knots had suddenly come untied, swept along helplessly in his own mind without any life raft or safety hold. He was drowning in his own mind, the tide of information was beating him against itself, battering him against the myriad emotions of a lifetime, each seemingly more destructive than the last.

His own reality was going to drown him, even as it put out the fires that burned him.

Then Bothrop was there, somehow skimming above it all. Of course, these were not his memories, this was not his mind. He was not being harmed by the bombardment, at worst was being disoriented. But he had found Bumblebee's core, and now dove in to wrench him free, dragging him from the nightmare state. Bumblebee felt the stabbing pain of the Serpent's bite, but the sharp fangs were an anchor, not a conduit for poison. They were a way back to reality, and Bumblebee didn't struggle against them.

He had known there was something holding Bothrop's handiwork together, that this was inevitable, but he hadn't been braced for it. He hadn't known exactly when the dam would break, or with how much force it would do so. Some part of him had also been scared to death of Bothrop.

What if he'd been wrong? What if Bothrop came in and finished what he started? Bumblebee hadn't even been able to sort through the emotions or think, just sat on the fear, preventing it from escaping the narrow confines into which he placed it, refusing to allow it loose as he had the anger. Fear was every bit as destructive as anger, and one could lead to the other in a vicious circle. He couldn't survive both breaking free of his control and running rampant. That really would kill him.

Bumblebee still felt like he was drowning, even if he was no longer being swept along in the current of his unrestrained memories. Everything swept over and through him, his whole life crashing across him, everything, all at once. It was too much, but he couldn't do anything to hold it back. All he could do was just try to hold on, pray the Serpent wouldn't let him go, just hang in there... a minute... a second more.

Darkness crept in, but was instantly swept back by blinding white light. One emotion tumbled after another, none of them attached to anything, each more powerful than the last. Faces, names, places, friends, enemies, mistakes, triumphs, past and present, all flew by faster than he could identify them.

This was his life. This was who he was. All of it condensed into these moments, distilled to purity.

This was the truth he had offered to Lachesis, but been unable at the time to reach for himself.

 _Who are you?_ Strongarm had asked.

And this -all of this- was the single, definite answer.

With a gasp, Bumblebee surfaced.

* * *

"Lt. Bumblebee!" Fixit's excited yelp drew Lachesis from her doze.

Her head lifted and swung towards him. His eyes were bright, for a moment too bright. Then they dimmed, assuming their usual only semi-luminous shade. The white circles were brighter than usual, but only by a little.

Bumblebee gasped and threw his head and shoulders back, as if breaking the surface of water. His entire body shook with the effort of tearing free of whatever imaginary shackles he felt himself to be escaping, and he seemed for a moment as though he would overbalance and fall on his back.

Then he leaned forward, made as if he was going to curl into a ball, then resumed his former physical position. His bright eyes turned towards Fixit, then Lachesis. In their cerulean depths, she thought she caught the shadow of Bothrop, but she couldn't be sure.

Hesitantly, half afraid, she lifted her head and brought it towards him for what she knew would be the final time. Delicately, she laid her lower jaw on his shoulder, the tip of her muzzle against his neck. She opened her mouth just slightly, only enough for her tongue to escape and make the necessary contact.

With a rush of warmth, she felt Bothrop slip from the Scout's mind and into hers.

She pulled her head back, and saw that there was still a shadow in Bumblebee's gaze, but it no longer reminded her of Bothrop. She knew that it was right. The Scout had shown her so much light, but there was also a darkness, a knife sharp edge that was a part of who he was, as vital as any of the softness which now shone in his glowing eyes. He was all of the pieces, each of them mattered, each one fit together to make the shape of who and what he was. She understood now.

"Lt. Bumblebee, are you alright?" Fixit demanded.

Maybe he couldn't see it. Maybe he needed to hear it to believe it.

In any case, Bumblebee shifted his gaze from Lachesis to the little minicon.

"I will be," he said mildly, a warmth in his voice that had been missing before.

Lachesis lifted her head, and she looked along with Bothrop, as if they were both seeing the Scout for the first time. This was Bumblebee as the world had made him, as destiny had intended. This was what they had hated for so long, had tried so hard to destroy, to wipe from the face of the Earth. This one Autobot, this single life, this bright shining light in the universe. And they had tried to snuff it out.

Lachesis and Bothrop understood now. Not only what they had tried to do, but also the folly of it. The Scout – Warrior... _Bumblebee_ – was made of something stronger than either of them. They couldn't have destroyed that, no matter what they did. They could have killed him, but they could not touch the spark at the core of him. They could conceal it, they could put it in chains, they could deny its existence, but they could not put out that light, no matter how many shadows they surrounded it with.

For just a moment, a breath in time it felt as if nothing had changed; it was as if time had stood still in this one spot, this place called Earth. But still they knew the Bumblebee that was lost was not the one that had been found. He would never be the same again. The world was not as it had been before.

And they were to blame.

But when he looked at them, that suddenly didn't seem to matter because, as much as he had been changed, he was still exactly the same. It hadn't changed who he was, not really. Not underneath. What had happened was just an event, another piece of his life, another part of the story, another step in the journey. Just another shard, glittering and spinning among the others, reflecting and magnifying who and what he was. Not changing it, just amplifying the truth of what he was on the other side.

And that, they realized, was okay.


	33. Epilogue

_**Author's Note: Thank you all for reading (and reviewing), I hope you liked it, and I hope you enjoy the epilogue. Thank you and goodnight everybody.**_

* * *

The world was not as it had been before.

The locations were there, but the land had been reshaped, restructured and -in some areas- restrained. The empty desert he had known was part of a town now.

The hill with its tree near the road, where he had often driven with Rafael so they could just be, it was not gone; yet it was changed and unrecognizable. There was a swimming pool to one side of it, a through street with a gas station on the other and, at the top, a chain drive-in. The tree was gone, the hill smoothed, flattened and buried, the ferocity of the desert itself suppressed by progress.

The world spun on, oblivious to all that had gone before and which could never be again.

But the voices of the past were not silent. They spoke across the boundaries of time and space, their echoes could be heard across the land, their presence felt in every drop of rain or kiss of sunshine. The past was gone, the future could not be predicted, but the present was real and alive and here.

Bumblebee had learned to be okay with that.

He sat in the parking lot of the drive-in, not quite asleep and yet still dreaming. But not only of the good that had been. He saw the evil too, as if it still lived and breathed beside him.

An ancient enemy in the form of a bitingly bright green sports car with black trim. He could almost hear the purr of the dark engine; the hiss of the voice that had spoken to him as a ghost might, speaking as though it were somehow part of him. Bumblebee knew the voice was not real, merely an echo of a memory and he did not fear it, nor the horror it had once represented.

 _{Do you remember, Scout?}_

 _I remember, Viper._

In the end, it was the memory of Pit Viper that had saved him. All of the fear, all of the pain, all of the darkness, and it was an ancient enemy who had brought him back from the brink, who had allowed him to be restored to his former self. Without that dark stain on his life, he might have been lost forever. The Serpents might have actually succeeded.

Lachesis and Bothrop had been agreeable to being placed in stasis, as he had known they would be. Fixit had asked if he really intended to ever set them free. Bumblebee had said nothing, because he couldn't bear to lie, but also dared not speak the truth.

If they stayed locked up forever, it was all the same to him.

Even with his memory restored to its proper order, the burning rage still had to be dealt with. It was a monster that, once set free, was difficult to get back under control. He was working on it. Someday, if he was extremely fortunate, he might actually be able to forgive Lachesis and Bothrop for what they'd done. But today was not that day, nor was here the place for it.

"Fixit told me I'd find you here."

Bumblebee was not entirely surprised to see Strongarm pulling into the empty parking lot. It was early in the morning, nothing was open, and no people were around. Strongarm pulled into the spot next to him and cut her engine. She said nothing for a time, and appeared to be taking in the tamed desert.

He wondered vaguely what had drawn her out here. She could have just radioed if there was an emergency, could have called him. But she'd asked Fixit to using the tracking equipment at his disposal to pinpoint Bumblebee's location. She had gone to a lot of trouble to find him, and equally large amounts of it to avoid alarming him or making him think there was problem he needed to deal with.

Bumblebee wasn't sure what to make of that. So he decided not to make anything of it.

Strongarm had come to speak with him, and she would talk when she was ready. He could wait.

White clouds rolled by overhead, without even a hint of last week's torrential downpour. Or maybe it hadn't rained here at all. Probably not. This was the desert, if it had started raining it would be raining yet, and the familiar red sand would be nowhere in sight, buried beneath the lush desert vegetation. Bumblebee had only seen deserts come to life a few times, but he had not forgotten their splendor.

It was a constant source of amazement that a land so flat and dry and obviously dead could not just come, but actively _burst,_ into life at the first touch of rain. Some plants responded to the mere promise of rain. Overnight, the landscape could be transformed. Even in this place, life did not merely survive, did not merely pass through on its way to somewhere else, but actually _thrived_.

It had seemed so utterly impossible to a young Autobot, a refugee from a dying world, that something like the desert could exist. He'd never talked about it with anyone, but he knew that the other Autobots saw the same thing he did. If life could thrive here of all places, there was hope yet for Cybertron. It had been a thin hope, at the back of their minds, buried underneath the daily struggles of surviving and fighting Decepticons and trying to prevent Earth from going the way of Cybertron.

But it was hope, as real and alive as the desert flora after a rain.

Sometimes, when he was out patrolling, it seemed like the only thing he had. When they thought they'd defeated Megatron that first time, and the Decepticons were scattered across the Earth, it had seemed like the Autobots would emerge from the conflict victorious... but at a great cost. Cybertron, their home, was a dead husk. There was nothing for them to go back to, and no way forward.

At the time, it seemed as though they had won the war, and lost everything that mattered in the process.

"I understand now," Strongarm said, breaking through the thought process, "Why you were so afraid, I mean," Bumblebee didn't interrupt, so she went on, "You were trying to tell me what you needed me to do. I thought I understood. But I... I nearly got us all killed."

Bumblebee said nothing for awhile. He let the warm sun and the gentle wind ease the tension in Strongarm's lines, allowed the span of seconds to begin loosening the vise of fear gripping her.

"Are we dead?" he asked finally.

Strongarm seemed taken aback by the question, as he knew she would be. It was not the response she had expected. Or the one she wanted. She thought she deserved to be berated for her ignorance, but she wanted to be forgiven for her naivety. Bumblebee had neither condemned nor exonerated her. He couldn't. Not if he was being honest. Not if the truth was to become clear to her.

"Well, no, we're not," she looked like she wanted to add that Sideswipe was a little worse for wear, but Fixit said he was recovering nicely so soon it wouldn't matter how badly he'd been hurt at the time as no lasting physical damage had been done, "But we could have been."

"And did the Serpents, having killed us, expand their destructive tendencies to include all Earth?"

"Of course not," Strongarm said indignantly, "I just said we weren't dead."

Sideswipe would have made a sarcastic remark, or picked up on the humor Bumblebee was using. It blew right past Strongarm so fast she didn't even stop to question whether Bumblebee's brain was full of cobwebs. She assumed the problem was on her end. And she was absolutely right, though not for the reason she thought. And the reason had a lot to do with it. She would learn that too, given time.

"Has Fixit been eaten as a snack? The scrapyard burned to ash? Denny and Russell used as toothpicks and then swallowed by a hungry snake? Have I tried to kill you lately?"

"No," Strongarm said shortly, sounding vaguely annoyed by this game.

"And is Cybertron dead? Has Earth perished at the fangs of the Serpents or the hands of the Decepticons? Has all life abruptly ceased, been wiped out of existence by a careless evil?"

"No, but that has that got to-"

"Then today is a good day," Bumblebee said, "You did well, Cadet Strongarm."

"But-" he cut her off mildly, repeating himself as he did so.

"You did well."

When it came right down to it, there was a whole world of things Bumblebee didn't know. Every time he felt like he got his feet on the ground and head up, the universe seemed to throw him a curve ball and then promptly turn on its head. He always felt vaguely out of control, and completely in the dark about how to get through the challenges that perpetually lay ahead of him.

But right here, right now, this he did know.

Whatever came his way, he would face it. Whatever changes came that he couldn't control, he would accept them. Whatever happened that he didn't expect, he would meet with all of the wisdom, courage and serenity he had learned over the course of his life. He would lean into the trouble that came his way, jump the obstacles to success and run his race without any fear for the next turn, the next length, the next stride, the next fraction of an inch.

The world had changed, and it would never be the same.

But even in the midst of chaos, there were still constants. Even in a galaxy torn by war there were guiding stars. And even in the most barren desert, there was still life. No one -not time, not Serpents, not Decepticons, not any evil with or without name- could change that.

And that was okay.

 _{You too were forged in that flame,}_ the vision of Pit Viper reminded him, sitting on the opposite side of him from Strongarm. She neither saw nor heard him because he was dead, and his ghost did not haunt her, _{What does that make you?}_

 _I told you long ago, Viper. It is the same now as it was then: I am a soldier, an Autobot. It can be no other way._

 _{You do remember.}_

The Viper smiled, and faded away.


End file.
